Sackcloth and Ashes
by D. M. Domini
Summary: Talentfic. A three year old child’s dead, a space liner with human cargo missing for the first time in Talent history. How does Afra Lyon cope with this? Alternate Universe.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

The screen at Afra Lyon's station wasn't flashing red or hooting alarms. Mere technology couldn't reliably detect everything that went on in the aether of the mind. It timestamped a telepathic draw here, a telekinetic push there, but as for the who and where those Talents were being used...only a human factor could understand and record that.

_Check liner 2834,_ his screen told him, prodding him out of numbness. He stifled a sardonic laugh he thought would make him sound quite cracked, and then blinked tears away as the Rowan's wordless, but not mindless, wail of grief crashed through his mind for a split second, before being modulated by someone to spare the minds of the lesser Talents in Callisto Tower, who were only now abruptly realizing something had gone direly wrong.

Damia was gone. And the liner too, but somehow the almost certain deaths of all those people didn't cut him as deeply as the loss of one engaging three year old girl. It didn't cut in the same way, somehow.

If it hadn't been the coward's way out, he would have killed himself in shame on the spot. It was his fault Damia had reached for him, a lesser Talent who couldn't provide the power or control needed to pick her off the liner, in her time of need, and his fault that his unthinking reaction had fouled Rowan's thrust mid-teleport.

And now both girl and liner were lost.

The pounding, slapping noise of Ackerman's panicked sprint off of the cargo floor into the Tower proper sounded in his ears, and Afra stumbled up and out of his chair, not sure if he was getting up to flee Ackerman's questions, or to shakily gather the reins of control over the Tower during the emergency, until the Rowan came to knock his head off, or Jeff came to boot him back to Capella, never to work in a Tower again.

"Good bloody hell, what happened?" Ackerman asked him verbally, which seemed strange, until Afra realized he was shielding so hard now that not even a Prime could get the slightest telepathic thought through to him without cracking his mind like a nut, much less a T-8 like Ackerman.

Afra's legs weren't up to holding him, his knees shook, and he sunk down to sit on the arm of his chair, staring fixedly at the floor, unable to trust himself to open his mouth without breaking down entirely and sobbing like a baby. He stayed that way for a few long moments, until the popping sound of one of his fingers piercing the synthetic material of the chair arm caused him to take a deep breath. And then another. He'd never been a violent man, but ripping the chair to shreds now in a rage of pain and sorrow and humiliation sounded good right now.

So instead he soothed the hole he'd made in the arm with his fingers, as if the chair could be soothed by touch like flesh could, swallowed once, and looked Ackerman in the eye. "We lost the liner," he told Ackerman. His voice was hoarse. He told himself to disregard those minor holes in his facade and try not to have a complete and utter breakdown in front of the entire crew. Liner first, those things were designed to withstand an accidental port into cold, hard space, and there was a remote possibility that it was out there somewhere with the people still alive. If the uncontrolled thrust hadn't smeared them on the walls with the force of uncontrolled gees. If the teleportation, meant to be picked up at the vicinity of a little dwarf star hadn't flung the liner directly into the heart of a sun, missing the grasping, startled mental fingers of David of Betagulese.

"Rowan...the Rowan wouldn't be wailing quite like that if it was a liner alone," Ackerman said.

"We lost Damia, she was in one of the pods we strapped to the liner."

Ackerman stared at him. "...so if we find the liner..." he said, grasping at any straw.

"No, Damia tried to teleport away, and I couldn't channel it." There, admit the guilt, out in the open to someone. It just made the guilt twist his heart tighter though. "She's gone."

Ackerman stepped away, running hands through his hair. "God-_fucking_-damn!" he spat, his own grief being channeled into anger as was his wont with emotions he couldn't keep control of. "Rowan?" he said, no longer paying attention to Afra, likely echoing the word with a mental query towards their Prime.

He felt an renewed sting that Ackerman would ask Rowan, a bereaved mother for help on getting a search plotted and started, when everything was _his_ fault, and _he_ was the second and should take care of his own damn mess, and knew it was irrational, because only the Rowan had been in contact with the ship as it slipped away at that last moment. Even if he had acted as a conduit to Jeff, to Earth Prime, to bring in aid, they would still have to ask Rowan for her help and memories of those last few moments to start the search. As anything less then a Prime, there was little that he could do that Ackerman couldn't do interchangeably now.

"Afra, go to your quarters, lie down, I'll handle it from here," Ackerman said, sudden sympathy in his voice, but to Afra it sounded like the words of a precog. Go to your quarters, and stay there until we figure out what to do with you.

Afra went, teleporting to avoid walking past the worried, curious gazes of all his co-workers in the tower. His knees couldn't hold him upright anyway.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

"Afra?"

Afra stopped playing with a crumpled, colored piece of oragami paper and looked at Jeff, who stood just inside his door. The door was locked, and Afra's mind still shielded away from all psychic contact as he struggled with his inner turmoil, so Jeff had just teleported himself in.

Afra flicked the paper ball into a clear vase, where it sank, the paper darkening and becoming waterlogged until if sank to the bottom, trailing a few whirls of green and orange dye. "Jeff," he said. His voice wasn't hoarse now, he had himself under rigid control. He supposed he should work on his inflection; the word had come out a little flat. "Earth Prime," he said, and it sounded more natural. His fingers touched a piece of paper on the coffee table, and he floated it over to the other man with a brief touch of his mind.

Earth Prime plucked it out of the air, read the first few lines, and crumpled it up to join a few other massacred bits of paper on the floor. "This is bullshit. I didn't come here to accept a resignation from you, Afra. "

An answering anger flickered to life, but Afra bit his cheek to keep from spitting out words he knew he would regret.

"Aside from your offer of assistance hours ago, nobody has seen or heard hair nor hide nor squeak from you since you holed up in your quarters. If the tower life support system didn't assure me something roughly man-sized was generating heat and breathing in here, well..." a pang of grief flashed over Jeff's face. He was trying to be Earth Prime, but he was also a father who'd lost a daughter. "Three disasters would be too much."

"If I were going to kill myself, I would have done it already," Afra said slowly.

"I really hope that's true, because you're damn inscrutable, and with your shields up like a war fortress I don't have a clue what you're thinking." Jeff sighed, and ambled over to the couch to sit next to Afra without invitation. His shoulder brushed Afra's, and Afra edged away, unwilling to chance a deep reading that physical contact would bring. "We've ported crews to scan for distress signals to all the likely locations, and all the Primes are going to do random scans of various areas for signs of human life where they shouldn't be..."

"Assuming they haven't exited the galaxy. And that they're in the same time/space as we are."

"We have to start somewhere," Jeff said simply. "I want you to take some leave, Afra--"

"--I just _offered_ to take leave, sir--"

Jeff stared at him in surprise, at the uncharacteristically sharp retort, and the helplessly tacked on honorific on the end. "That's not the type of leave I mean, and you know it. I want you to get off this rock, and go somewhere with a real atmosphere."

Afra started to shake his head wordlessly, and continued long enough that Jeff gazed at him, worried. "No. No, no, no. I'm resigning. I can't..."

"I'm _not_ accepting a resignation, period."

"My contract isn't that tight."

"I'll site mental instability due to grief--"

"As a reason to keep me _on_?" Afra said incredulously. "Oh yes. 'And what did the FT&T do in order to prevent something like this from happening again? You what? Oh, you got some sort of court order preventing the _one who screwed up in the first place_ from leaving employment with you? Yes, and how will this prevent similar incidents from happening again?'" He laid the sarcasm on thick, again uncharacteristic of him, but with his own shields keeping emotions in 'like a war fortress' it wasn't surprising that the self-loathing leaked out in his words. He closed his mouth and fought to shut himself up.

"Afra! I just lost my daughter, I don't want to lose a friend as well. What happened is not something you could have humanly prevented, and despite stories to the contrary, we Talents are, in the end, merely human. It's not your fault. I already have Ackerman berating himself for letting one of his lackies leave a gate open somewhere were Damia could have toddled in through, and I have Rowan in tears that she wasn't a good mother because she didn't know where her daughter was at all times."

"Ephemeral. I _interrupted a thrust_--that's nowhere near the level of leaving a gate from one part of the tower to another part of the tower ajar..."

"Then why don't you come down and tell Ackerman that to his face, and you two can brawl or something, then soak up too much beer and get drunk out of your minds."

Afra gave Jeff a look of supreme disgust. Then the expression faded. "I'll only be a thought away, even if I'm no longer a part of the FT&T," he said quietly.

"_No._ Okay, fine. You are going to take one month's leave, and if I don't think your choice of destination is appropriate, I'll choose it for you--I'm not letting you hole up in some monastery in Tibet or some shit like that. My privilege, as I'm sending you on FT&T money." Afra started to formulate a protest, but Jeff cut him off. "If, _if_ by the time that month is passed, you come to me, and you can look me in the eye and tell me that yes, you truly, fully wish to resign, without a blip on my radar that you're still fighting with yourself the way you are now, and without some uncharacteristic explosion of self-directed sarcasm belying your real mental state even when your friggin' war fortress shielding is up, I will accept your resignation. _But not before then._ Is that clear?"

"Yes sir," Afra said, the wind deflating from his sails.

"Oh stop that. Go to sleep, let your mind work it out in the background. Remember to eat, too."

And with that last scolding, Jeff left Afra alone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

The funeral for young Damia Gwen-Raven was short, held two days later in Callisto Tower, with a holocube standing in place of a casket. The holocube showed various pictures and vids of a cheerful little girl with big blue eyes, curling black hair streaked by white, and a penchant for mischief.

Afra hadn't really talked to Rowan since the incident; despite Jeff's reassurances that he was not at fault, he had caught her gaze and her thought that if he hadn't interfered she might have been able to complete the 'port, and whisk Damia to safety.

That made his grief twist deeper, because she wasn't even raging at him for it, buried in grief, like he had thought she would. Just a brief thought, a what if, what if he'd been a little less strong, he wouldn't have even conceived of trying to channel a three-year-old Prime's first teleportation, or if he had, she would have been able to compensate better for his interference if he was only a T-4 again, or a T-5.

People brought flowers, and toys, and cards, and left them on top of and around the large holocube. Afra wanted to give Damia her life back, but it wasn't within his power to do so. He left her an oragami rose, and coonie cat, and hoped wherever she was now, she wasn't in any sort of pain, and that she was happy.

He had the sneaking suspicion that it hadn't been anything but painful to die like that, though. Every Talent with the ability to teleport got the quantum physics of it--or at least, the few parts science understood--pounded into them. Maybe if she'd been on a planet, she could have teleported somewhere safe, but on a moon base, outside the domes there wasn't even air, and he doubted even as smart a three year old as Damia had been would have comprehended the danger of that.

He didn't research the effects of dying in vacuum without a spacesuit, but only because he was certain Jeff or someone would sic Elizara or Isthia on him then, and at this point he felt too fragile to talk to anyone who could cut through his aloofness to the heart of the matter, which either lady could do with ease.

Jeff eventually chose to send Afra to Tokyo, when Afra's reluctance to go on leave manifested in an inability to pick any destination at all, even when Jeff asked where he'd go if he resigned, and Afra shrugged his agreement, and packed his bags.

Traveling to a specific city on Earth was unlike traveling to a specific city on another planet. Cities on Earth, specifically old-world cities in Europe, the Middle East, and Asia still held on fast to their ancient cultures, and often held a racial majority of one type or another that was entirely unseen on any other world in the Nine Star League. The small inter-world Tokyo tower wasn't atypical to his experiences in any way, but once he stepped out of the Tower into the city he felt somewhat like a freakish giant, towering over all but the tallest Terrans of Japanese descent.

But Jeff had chosen well. The culture here shared some deep, startling similarities to the Capallan culture he grew up with, and despite a few initial mistakes of him being a Terran himself from the Jerhattan area (his Basic accent had drifted towards what was spoken most frequently in Blundell in the years he'd worked at Callisto), his natural reservation and politeness made interactions typically pleasant.

"And here are your accommodations, Mister Lyon. There is room service available, if you log into the com, and we also run a twenty-four hour buffet on the lower level. For entertainment, we have some live shows playing tonight, miniature golf, pools, a new null-gee arcade, a bar with cards and pool, and adult entertainments of several sorts if you're willing to submit to a health check and blood sample." She didn't stutter as she mentioned the last, but he sensed that like himself she probably hadn't grown up in a place where such entertainment was commonly accepted. "Do you have any additional questions? Or is there anything else I can do for you, sir?"

"I'm fine, thank you very much for your assistance," he said, giving her a small bow. Her eyes lit up a bit at that, she thought it amusing that someone in this particular suite felt like he had to bow to her, but she bowed back, and left him with a cheery, "Good day!"

The suite was elegant, but far too large and well-equipped for his taste. Which was probably the point, Jeff obviously felt he'd go cram himself in one of those tube-hotels if he had a chance to. But still--he felt perversely like some sort of weird hitman. Off a little girl in an industrial "accident", win an all-expenses-paid trip to Tokyo. By the girl's father, no less. All it'd need is some weird parentage plot, where Jeff wasn't _really_ the father and...

No. No, that wasn't funny, even as a joke, even as a pseudo-plot for some thriller vid. The Rowan had never wanted anything more then friendship from him.

"I need to eat something," Afra muttered to himself, all too keenly aware that thoughts like that were rarely as random as they seemed. He had an issue, one that he hadn't let himself even see yet. He also made sure his shields were firmly in place, he wouldn't put it above Earth Prime to take a peek in his mind to gauge his emotional state when he was supposedly relaxing on leave.

Walking over to the com, he looked up the room service menus, and ended up choosing a fairly light fish and calamari meal, and a bottle of wine. The wait time said thirty minutes, so he wanted towards the bathing room to take a quick shower. The biggest downside to living on a moon base for years is that you never quite felt clean, what with the water rations and all.

The food arrived considerably quicker then the predicted wait time, as he was still rubbing soap into his hair, and he triggered the door telekinetically while wrapping a robe around himself. The young man wheeled the cart in and set the table, and left shortly after once Afra indicated that all was well.

After he completed his shower, he sat down to eat his slightly cold, if still delicious, fish and calamari meal, and pondered the likelihood of this particular com being monitored. Unlikely, he decided, so he sat down, and looked up a few issues he wanted to know more about--more detail about how the human body fared in space without protection, what sort of professions would be available to a non-FT&T Talent, and the emergency supplies stocked for a liner full of two thousand people.

It seemed a quick thinking telekinetic Talent could prevent much harm from happening in the first few seconds of being exposed to vacuum. If you knew how to levitate, you could compress the body to approximate the appropriate air pressure, lessoning the chance of the blood to boil or the body to bloat up to twice its size. You could even grab some atmosphere if your control went micro enough to handle such delicate mass, to breathe, although unless your Talent went _very_ micro you would have to take the air from a known source, or else poison yourself with unbreatheable air. You could probably keep yourself warm too, for a period of time. Effectively, it was doable, but would require training and practice.

Which no three year old would have. He doubted that he himself would have the self-control not to panic for the first crucial moments to save his own life.

In short, Damia, assuming she jumped into the wide, wide expanse of vacuum between Callisto and the liner's destination, most likely bloated up to the size of a largish beach ball, had her blood boil into vapor in her veins, and died either roasting or freezing, depending on if she was in the sunlight or hidden behind some planetary mass.

That was a horrible way to die.

On the other hand, the two thousand people trapped in the liner that was lost would have food to last them two weeks on strict rations...but air only to last five to seven days, depending on if it had had chemicals to induce hibernation-like states in the passengers to conserve air or not. And assuming the passengers hadn't mutinied on the crew in a state of raw panic. And, again, assuming they hadn't been tossed into a sun or pureed on the inner side of the hull from the gees.

Damia was dead, and the liner passengers would asphyxiate to death tomorrow, the fifth day from the incident, if they weren't _already_ dead.

And Jeff wanted to _keep him on_. Afra laughed bitterly, and started to look for employment, focusing on positions that required telepathy or telempathy, and avoiding ones that required telekinesis, because no matter how little you handled live cargo--and he had never handled much at all, mostly just the occasional 'port to and from Earth--he was proof that it only took one mistake when handling large masses telekinetically, and dozens, hundreds, thousands in his case, of lives were lost.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

"You look like you want something harder, sir," a alto voice at Afra's elbow said. He blinked away from the live jazz ensemble, and found a young woman standing with a tray of liquors. She was about the Rowan's height, but with crow-black hair, a wide, round face and twinkling almond-shaped eyes. Once she saw she had his attention, she started pointing at the various bottles on her tray. "Prokky Rum, Altair Applejack, and this, my friend, is the finest Capallan Absinthe to be had," she said tapping a little elegant spoon against a bottle with pale green liquid inside so that it chimed sweetly.

"I wasn't aware Capella made or exported Absinthe," Afra remarked. "Wine, yes," and he twirled the stem of his wineglass in his fingers.

"Well, have a little, just to taste it," and she started to put barely a splash in a little shot glass with a dash of sugar and some cold water, before he stopped her.

"My wine and I are doing well together, but thank you."

"It'll make you greener," she opined, as if that was a plus.

"I don't intend to take up photosynthesizing for my dinner," Afra said, which provoked a laugh that was bigger then the young woman standing next to him. Surprisingly he felt his mood lighten a bit, as he wondered how someone so small could have so full a laugh.

"Well, why not some rum then? No? That's alright, you don't look like a rum man. What about the applejack?"

"I wouldn't call myself an applejack man either."

"Then we're back to the absinthe. Are yellow eyes common on Capella?"

"Depends on the family, I think; my sister has green-yellow eyes, but my brother has brown."

"You remind me of a secretary bird," the woman said.

"Do I?"

"They're a rare breed of long-legged hawk from Africa, and you don't look anything like one, except that hawks have yellow eyes, and secretary birds in particular have long legs, and my mouth has run off with me as usual, because I think I'm no longer making sense. Here's the absinthe, let me know if you need more, a loud whistle, slap on the rump, or cry of 'Hey! You girl!' all work to get my attention."

He blinked. "I wouldn't do any of those things," Afra said honestly.

"I know, which is why I give you my permission." And with that remark, she sauntered off, leaving the little shot glass of now-milky absinthe behind.

_She's either an enthusiastic saleswoman, or this absinthe is drugged and I'm about to become the date-rape victim of a woman half my size and weight,_ Afra thought, looking at the shot glass left there for him.

_What_ a familiar voice said in astonishment in his mind. _Don't drink it then. And what's this about you trying to resign, multiple times? Don't you think those letters should have been addressed to me? I hired you, after all, I just let Reidinger pretend he had the final say._

Afra's slightly uplifted mood evaporated. _Rowan..._

_I'm the one who lost the liner, and I'm the one who let...who..._distress colored her thoughts and pulled them apart.

_Rowan..._

_And here you are, just going to __walk away__ from us all, and it wasn't even your responsibility, I'm the Prime of Callisto Tower...and I'm staying here..._

_I can be replaced, Primes can't._

_Don't give me that bullshit..._distress turned into anger.

_Heads have to roll, and I interfered with your thrust, I might as well have put a knife in your back. And it didn't even save...and what is Earth Prime going to tell the liners? That there were absolutely no changes in crew at the station this disaster happened under?_

_It wasn't a forseeable...no, nobody's going to change a damn thing in my Tower unless I say so. It doesn't matter what they think, and since when do you dance to the media's tune?_

_If I hadn't interfered, the liner wouldn't have been knocked out of your hands._

_...do you really think I'm harrion enough to blame you for attempting to save my daughter?_

_That's not what I meant at all..._

_Afra, are you giving my wife the same bullshit you fed me?_

_I..._unable and unwilling still to spill his inner fears and motivations even to two old friends, it was just too soon, Afra put his shields back up again, and stared at the milky shot glass before him. It was childish, akin to putting his fingers in his ears and going, "Lalalala!", but he wanted some peace in his own mind, which was difficult to achieve even when he was alone in it.

The shot glass suddenly zoomed back and forth in front of him, as if trying to get his attention, and the girl who'd given him the drink before paused in her rounds to give it a weird look. "I think it likes you?"

"My friends are trying to get my attention."

"They can't just give you a ring?"

"Not until we get that ansible up and running," Afra said, referring to a non-existent form of long-distance communication relying on quantum mechanics' "spooky action from a distance" to work.

"Ah. Budget delays, yes?"

"Probably," Afra said, with a small sad half-smile. Then he grabbed the glass, threw the contents down his throat, and returned it to her tray, where it hopped for a moment until Jeff or the Rowan realized things had changed in the glass.

"Good boy! Want some more?" And she grinned.

Afra coughed and tried to clean the sweet, vaguely licorice-tasting liquor out of his mouth with his tongue. "If I wake up dead in a ditch tomorrow it's your fault." Hm, he wasn't sure he meant to say that out loud. Either the liquor worked faster then expected, or his anger and grief was making him reckless.

"If you manage to _wake up dead_, that'd be a neat trick, but I'm told Talents are pretty Talented." She shrugged. "I mean no harm, I guess I'm too ham-fisted, though, for someone who can read minds?"

She was an extremely blatant flirt indeed. Afra sucked on his teeth, wondering how old, exactly, she was, and pondered the fact that this was the first time he'd managed to attract a girl in a...well, not in a bar, she seemed to _be_ the bar around here.

To be honest, he liked her. He wasn't sure how much he liked her, but she was funny, and vibrant, and liking someone wasn't a bad place to start at. And sitting in his hotel quarters, or even watching the live band, while stewing, felt...excessively melodramatic. His emotions were perilously out of control, and that was a shameful state to be in. He needed a distraction. "What do you know about the town?" he asked.

"Tokyo? Everything. Would you like me to show you around later?"

"It would please me very much to have a beautiful young women show me around," Afra said, and smiled with his eyes.

She blushed the faintest bit, which was a bit surprising but, uncorking his mind a little, he sensed it was genuine. Then she smiled, and scuttled off to her next customer, lounging on a couch almost directly in front of the band.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

It might have helped if they had exchanged names, Afra realized later, as he hovered around the entrance to the room he'd been in earlier, as it was closing up for the night. He saw several that were short, or black haired, or brown eyed, but none of them were her.

He modified his shields a bit, and heard the muted babble of human thoughts all around him. Perhaps, if she were thinking of him, he would hear it.

"Excuse me, miss," he said, approaching one of the women who were leaving to go home. "There was a woman, she served me some absinthe about, oh, four hours ago, and I didn't get her name..."

The woman's mind briefly flung up an image that was indeed the person he was looking for, and the knowledge that the woman he was looking for always flirted with folks to make the day go faster, but that no patron, at least, had caught her yet. She thought he was one of those poor blokes who had jumped to the wrong conclusion.

Perhaps he was. Maybe she had decided to back out--after all, she didn't even have his name, which had been rather rude of him.

"I'm sorry, I don't work on the floors, sir" which was true, she worked in the kitchen, "so I'm afraid I don't recall who it might have been tonight." Which was false. Her mind supplied a name, just a first name, but that was enough. Naoki. "I'm sorry sir."

"That's all right," Afra said. "I just wanted to ask. Thank you for your time." And they bowed slightly to one another, before the girl hurried off down the passageway.

He hovered around the closed up entrance for about an hour, nodding politely at the occasional worker or three the entrance from time to time. But either her shift had ended much earlier, or she'd scrambled to be the first one out, because eventually nobody else exited, and he couldn't sense any minds in that area of the hotel.

Hm. So.

His hands in his pockets, he wandered away from the areas of the hotel closed up for the night, down an escalator, and through a very zen rock garden to the doors to the outside.

And found her there by pure chance, shifting sore-footed as if she'd been waiting a while, smoking a herbal cigarette in blue paper.

"Naoki?"

She jumped and turned, then smiled up at him, brief as a sunbeam sneaking out between two clouds. "Well hello there."

"Am I intruding?"

"No, not at all. I was waiting for you, but I didn't know what room you were in, or even your name...figured if you set foot outside, maybe you'd go through the front door eventually."

"My apologies for keeping you waiting then. My name is Afra Lyon."

"Lyon? Well excuse me for calling you a hawk."

"Truth be told, the lion puns get old after a while, Naoki."

"I can see that. I'm Naoki Yori, but seems you got the first part already--or perhaps a little bird told you?"

He chuckled, and wondered if she came from a Talented family, or was Talented herself, to be so laid back about things. She was teasing him about being Talented, but no wraith of jealousy or sorrow or anger underlied her words. She just liked to tease. "Something like that, yes."

"Welcome to Tokyo, Mister Lyon. You're even taller standing up."

"That tends to happen," Afra said affably. "And thank you, for the most peculiar welcoming line I think I've ever heard. Although the Procyon one was close--Welcome to Procyon, we'll get you drunk before you leave."

"Welcome to Tokyo, you're even taller standing up," she muttered to herself for comparison, then blushed. "I did _not_ mean it in that manner."

A smile tugged up one side of his face. "I understand," he said.

"I have a big mouth. I can fit both feet in it, at the same time."

"We all have our Talents," Afra quipped.

"Hah. Yes. Well, you wanted to see Tokyo? Anything in particular?" She dropped her cigarette, stepped on it, then bent over to retrieve the butt and put it in a trash can.

"I didn't really choose my destination, so I didn't come with expectations. What do you think I should see? Keeping in mind that I was raised Cappellan, so no-holds-barred ice hockey, or professional female sumo wrestling are probably not my thing..."

Naoki laughed in delight. "You know, you really should go see the female sumo wrestlers, they really--"

"No no no no no," Afra shook his head.

"Your loss."

"I will morn it all of two seconds," he said with a smile.

"Prig."

"Indeed."

"Well then, I have just the thing." And she pulled him down the street, chattering non-stop about this or that, giving him a real tour.

Naoki was a part time roving bartender attending school to become a biologist (not that there's anything left on Earth to study), and all of seventeen years of age, which made Afra take a good, hard look at himself and his motivations, given he was ten years older then she was.

"I knew you were one of those types, amoral enough to want to talk to me, but moral enough to squick at my age. 'S my fault, I suppose, your skin makes it obvious where you're from. But take a look in here," and she knocked on her skull with her knuckles. "Come on in. You'll see where I'm coming from then."

"You're very casual about something that would make most non-telepaths run away screaming in fear."

"I have a cousin, actually, that I grew up with, and my greatest relief was that even when I crammed both feet in my mouth, she could read my mind and understand what I meant when I was chewing on my anklebones. I never had a single fight with her, which god knows wasn't the case with everyone else."

"Sounds like she was empathic, in both definitions, in addition to telepathic, since telepathy definitely isn't a cure-all for misunderstanding. Where is she now?"

"Altair, in that new secondary tower they just put up on the other continent."

"Are you heading that way once you get your degree?"

"Yep. Earth is too damn expensive. Pardoning my French. Have you looked in my head yet?"

"Ah..." It was an unusual request, even among telepaths. But he was curious, and she had given permission, so he slipped in for a second, hunting thoughts about him, and men in general, and motivations.

Her motives were as pure as they got--she was just attracted to him, no ulterior motive underlying it (except perhaps those that were part and parcel of being attracted to a man). She'd glimpsed him, sitting on his stool, one long rangy leg curled around a rung, with golden hair and green skin and eyes that were startlingly yellow when he looked up at her. His impassiveness as he stared at his wine, until she startled a fleeting smile out of him, or a crinkle in the corner of his eyes. He seemed calm, collected (ha!), a rock around which a river could burble gaily, something that was warm and desirable to her.

"That's very zen," he commented, thinking of the river and the rock.

"I'm getting flashies, so I think you went in?"

"Flashies?"

"Memories not connected to my current chain of thought. It may not seem like it, but my thoughts are connected, and unconnected memories springing up stand out a little. It's how I knew my friend went in."

Interesting. "That only happens, I would think, when someone digs past your public mind. I went looking for your motivations, beyond the ones you were holding in your public mind."

"Can you explain?"

"Your public mind is the part of your mind where you're currently processing thoughts, it's the most immediately aware and conscious part of the mind. If you started singing Mary Had A Little Lamb in your head, that would be done in your public mind. Public minds can be read with no digging, much like you can hear people talking to one another if you walk through a park. I'm guessing a scan of your public mind wouldn't generate flashes of memory for you. Private mind, is either the mind behind your shielding, if you're a telepath, or the part of your mind that stores thoughts and memories not currently being processed by the public, conscious mind."

"That makes sense. Did you like what you saw?" And she gave him another pixie-like grin.

What man wouldn't? He was flattered that her thoughts of him were so positive, given that for the past few days he had felt like something you scraped off your shoe. Proof again that if you didn't know him, and weren't telepathic, his grief and sorrow and pain were nigh on invisible. As they should be, really. "I'm flattered about your opinions of me," he said. "And glad I didn't resist as hard as I usually do."

"So am I! Now, do you like to swim?"

"I do." It was the only way to submerge yourself in a body of water on Callisto for any period of time, and for exercise he'd never been fond of running, preferring the lower impact on his feet of biking. Of course, it was impossible to bike on Callisto, there wasn't even a track unless you dared chance running over the folks who liked to jog, and that was fun only if going in teeny tiny circles was your thing. It wasn't his, so he swam.

"You look like a swimmer or a runner. At the aquarium, on the bay, they let you swim with the fishes, and dolphins. Not quite as good as the coral reefs near Australia, but I also think you haven't seen a dolphin up close?"

"I haven't, but it sounds like fun!"

And it was. Naoki was like a breath of atmospheric air, after breathing canned moon air for so long (which wasn't always the best, no matter how well-scrubbed it was), rather wise despite her youth, and over the next two weeks, she dragged him all over the city after her shift. He insisted on paying for most of what they did, knowing as a student she probably would have exhausted her entertainment funds for the month on any one of the things they did or saw alone.

Jeff and Rowan left him to his privacy during this time, either because he'd gravely insulted them with his fingers-in-the-ears trick, or because they had bigger fish to fry and he would return at the end of the month anyway.

Which was good and bad. Once he left Naoki at her doorstep (or she left him at his) troubling thoughts tended to descend. Early on, it was, of course, his motivations towards her. Was he using her to push his troubles away? Why, of all the women in the city of Tokyo, someone ten years younger then him? She wasn't even out of school! And his charm at her small size was something close to approaching a fetish--why not a tall women? They were always looking for someone taller then themselves. But no. He had the urge to pull her into his lap, and curl up around her, the way you might curl up with a coonie cat in your lap, just to feel the purr. And her low alto voice was tremendously sexy in the moments she stopped bubbling, and became intently serious about something.

Kissing her stung his lips, and his conscience, but the alternate of being left alone with dark thoughts was worse. She returned his kiss eagerly, and when she curled a leg around him and climbed him like a tree so they were eye level, he gave in to her. She was feather-light and enchanting.

At night dark thoughts came again, and the mistake of researching death by exposure to hard vacuum came back to haunt him--his mental image of Damia merged with the gruesome photographs he had very, very quickly scanned, and provided a specter that haunted the very edges of sleep, where coherent thought turned into dream-thoughts, thoughts that were taken from the day's events, spliced together with private-mind fears and worries, as they were being processed into memory through the route of dreaming. His mind was still hard at work during this time processing his loss, and he walked the halls of Callisto when he slept, a small, dry, bloated hand in his.

He awoke with a look of revulsion plastered on his face more than once, before he smoothed it away by strict self control.

"You're jumpy when you sleep," Naoki said, curled up behind him with an arm snaked under his and around his chest. When awake he took comfort from the physical contact, but it didn't seem to ward to well against dreams when he slept. He thought that only another telepath would be able to soothe his dreams, and even then only temporarily.

"I have a lot on my mind."

"I know." She combed the hair at the back of his neck with her nails.

He felt her curiosity, but didn't elaborate. He also felt her fears that she wasn't really good enough for him, and her disappointment that this was temporary. (He'd told her he was only here for a month, and that Tokyo wasn't his typical destination when he visited Earth. Typically he was on the other side of the world entirely, in Jerhattan.) He, too, was disappointed it was temporary, but didn't trust his future or his state of mind enough to consider something longer term. He was in flux, this month of leave just delaying the inevitable decision.

But the decision _was_ inevitable, and they eventually had to say their goodbyes. He hugged Naoki tight, and told her that he would have probably gone batty alone in his hotel room if it wasn't for her.

"Where are you going next, if I can ask?"

"Earth Tower, to speak to Earth Prime. To resign."

She'd known he was a Talent from nearly the start, but the fact that he had met Earth Prime made her abruptly reassign his perceived strength up by several factors. At least a T-6, she thought, a real tower talent, since her cousin was a T-8 and had only met the pair of T-2s running Altair Tower once. He didn't correct her assumptions. "Where are you going to go after that?"

"I'm not sure if trying to resign will be successful. If not, I'll end up on one planet or another. If it is, I'll make the decision of where to go then."

"Well...I wish you luck then."

"And I to you. When you do get to Altair, feel free to ask your cousin if I'm around; if I'm ever on planet, the local Talents will likely know."

"I'll do that. Thank you." And she stood on tiptoe to hook her hand around his neck and pull him down to her height for a kiss. It felt comedic at first, as always with the height difference, but the kiss was nice.

He'd really miss her.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Twelve hours later, Afra entered Earth Prime's office, a small travel sack over his shoulder, only to find Earth Prime's mother, Isthia Raven, curled up in the chair instead, looking as at ease there as any feline might, mistress of any domain she was currently standing, or sitting, in. Not for the first time he wondered what might have happened if her Talent had been discovered earlier, and she'd been trained up to Prime. She might be sitting there as Earth Prime herself.

"But then I wouldn't have met my husband, and neither Jeff nor any of the others would have been born, much less my grandchildren."

"The world would be a different place," he agreed.

"Primes would be stuck in their Towers still, poor Rowan..."

That traitorous thought that had been as elusive over the past month as a small fish swimming behind a waterfall whispered to him that, had that happened, he wouldn't have let Rowan...

He stopped thinking, propped up his shields to defend against Isthia's long ear, and hoped she hadn't caught a glimmer of scale from that slippery, serpentine thought.

"And who knows what would have happened to Deneb when the Hivers arrived? No, I'm content where I am, Afra. Deneb's my home and my place to be. Being Earth Prime suits Jeff well enough. But I'm not sure if Deneb would suit you, if you decided to resign, although we'd love to have you, if you wished to come. Plenty of room now," and her half smile was a touch sardonic.

"Are you here to try my resolve as well?"

"No, I'm here to listen. You've avoided Angharad, and Jeff, and Elizara, and me, and I didn't live through half my family dying from the Hivers to not know when grief is being channeled in an unhealthy way. We're _worried_ about you, my dear."

Afra prodded himself, much like you'd prod a scab to see how healed it was, trying to judge if he was ready to talk to someone. But everything, his pain, his turmoil curled back to that reason he was so desperately trying to hide from himself, the one he feared would likely reduce him to ash even a month later if he dared examine it. He wasn't ready to force the issue, not here, not yet. "I...understand, and thank you for your concern."

They stared at each other for a long while.

"Not a word?"

Afra shook his head. "Not now. Not yet."

"Don't choke yourself on Methody ways, dear. You've always been a bit of a triangle peg in a circular hole, but if you shave off the corners of the triangle to fit, you'll just end up mutilating yourself to no good end. A triangle is a triangle, a circle a circle. If it wasn't, you wouldn't have even come to Callisto in the first place, mmm?"

Even though he's become comfortable with the Methody aspects of his life that he had adopted, he wasn't, and never would be, the same sort of person as his sister, or his mother and father, or his brother. That's what she meant, and she wasn't far from wrong. "I understand your meaning," he said reservedly. But he didn't wish to discuss it.

"I'm antagonizing you too, it seems. Jeff's right, your shields are like the walls of a war fortress now." And she sighed and rose to her feet. A moment later he was engulfed in a warm, strong hug. He resisted for a microsecond, then hugged her back. It felt surprisingly good, and it amused him that maybe all he needed was a hug.

"Shame on you, mother, he's half your age," Jeff scolded a while later, walking in on the embrace. "I'm fairly certain, too, that seducing him in order to keep him in the FT&T is a violation of his contract, under clause nine." _Of course, if it __works_

Afra and Isthia looked at one another, Isthia's eyebrow nearly hitting her hairline. Afra thought of the girl...woman...girl he'd met in Tokyo, ten years younger then him, and concluded that if he dated outside his age bracket it would likely be women younger then him. Isthia's eyes crinkled up with smile lines as she obviously heard the thought, shields or no shields. The physical contact, likely.

"She's cute. Young, but cute," Isthia said, before giving him a final squeeze and letting him go.

Jeff's eyebrows went up as he heard that.

"She is legal?" Isthia asked.

"Isthia." Afra kept his face carefully blank, but there was a note of exasperation in her name when he said it. "Yes," he said.

Jeff's eyebrows waggled lecherously, which was sort of creepy and fascinating at the same time, but he didn't pry. Then he cleared his throat. "Well, back to business."

Isthia wished them both a good day, and withdrew after giving her son a peck on the cheek.

"Sit," Earth Prime said, and Afra sat.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Afra did indeed end up on Deneb, but not because he resigned from the FT&T like he had intended. His trust in his own telekinetic powers was seriously shaken, however, and Jeff agreed if that was the case, he probably shouldn't go back to active duty in a Tower as busy as Callisto quite yet, since that was the sort of thing every damn empath in the tower would eventually pick up, and Callisto couldn't afford to be caught between Afra's insecurity and the Rowan's periodic mood swings. And also, Jeff said in a very private thought, Afra was right in that politics demanded that somebody's head roll. Since Afra was so intent on making himself a sacrifice, a sacrifice he would be, until he regained trust in himself and the media wouldn't notice Afra moving back to active duty somewhere quietly.

So Afra went to Deneb anyway, as a trainer for the planet's burgeoning flock of fledgling Talents, and discovered that Cera and Jeran were there as well, under Isthia's care, with the entire planet to act as a safety net against hard vacuum if they decided to try to teleport too. He also found out that the Rowan had another one coming.

"She wanted to pair the next one up with Damia, being as Cera and Jeran are so bonded to each other they rarely see little else."

Afra said nothing, not knowing what to say, or how to say it with the scabbed over wound still inside of him. Instead he pushed printouts around Isthia's kitchen table, trying to figure out what sort of training program he could pull together for the set of students he had.

"We had a Capellan trainer before, but they were at war with one another, the trainer and the students, from day one. Of course, they also weren't you. You're usually fairly sensible about things. But if Thomas gives you lip, belt him one."

"You know I'd never hit anyone," Afra said.

"Neither would I, but oh does he deserve it sometimes!"

He assisted Isthia with the Rowan and Jeff's two kids, Isthia's own son Ian, and also the other random Raven clan children that came and went with the aunts, uncles, cousins, and friends that came to visit Isthia.

Cera and Jeran were glad to see him, and he glad to see them, but it was occasionally disconcerting the way they almost didn't realize their sister was gone. He tried to forgive them for being children, children were notoriously self-absorbed, and death was a big concept to grasp for _anyone_, but it still rankled, just a bit. He hid it well under his shields, though, to prevent it from ruining their relationship.

And to keep it from Isthia's keen ears. She'd not mentioned anything to him about matters again, but he suspected that was because they were on the same planet now, and she didn't want to make him feel cornered. He did think it was likely she was paying close attention to him, though--she was a healer, and driven to give her aid to all who needed it.

And he knew he needed it...just not yet.

Given that Talent was sprinkled through the community but had very little formal cataloging, mapping out, or training, Afra pow-wowed with Gollee Gren, Jeff Raven's second in command at Blundell, while putting the little generator Deneb had through its paces. Isthia backed him up, giving him the reach to 'path that far, all the way to Earth, and listened in as well, as she was effectively one of the leaders of Talent on the planet, training or no training.

_You're never going to catch them all, especially if they don't want to be caught,_ Gollee advised. _It __is__ optional. I would take a core group of known Talents, ones eager to learn, work with them, train them up, and then when you think they're ready, hit a few of the schools with them, with the usual battery of tests, and go from there. If you get a Finder or two, see if you can get them to point you where the biggest hotbeds of Talent are, or the stronger ones scattered throughout the population._

_Sounds like a plan,_ Afra said.

_It works. By the way, how have you been?_ And Gollee gave Afra a mental punch in the arm.

_Ow, _Isthia said.

_I heard you were on Earth for a while, but you didn't come visit me, or my new wife, and I'm all sad now. And crying. Really, my heart is broken. I really thought we had something together!_

_He was canoodling with a pretty young thing from Tokyo,_ Isthia teased._ Why __would__ he want to visit you?_

_Really! My word!_ Gollee said in a spot-on gossipy tone. _Kama will be __so__ jealous,_ he added while projecting a goofy grin, referencing Afra's occasional lover in Jerhattan.

_My, I never knew your love life was so complicated, Afra,_ Isthia said. _First you break Gollee's heart..._

_And I __am__ truly devastated._

_And now there's a new lady friend I knew nothing about with her heart in tatters..._

Afra just started to laugh, caught as he was between the two, feeling a bit embarrassed.

_I'd have some manly, chauvinistic things to say to you Afra, but given a lady's present--_

_--trust me, I've heard it all, I __am__ a telepath!--_

_--I will refrain. That, and my master summons me. Good luck with the sprogs!_ And Gollee withdrew from the group.

"Sprogs," Afra said, and shook his head.

"I think he borrowed that from Jeff," Isthia said, opening her eyes and yawning. Then she cocked her head to the side. "And I think my own sprog just skinned his knees," she said, and sure enough, by piggybacking on her mind, Afra could sense Ian's distress. "I'll see you later, Afra."

"Thank you for the assistance."

"Not at all. You're here to help us learn to work together, you and I might as well set the first example."

--------

The training group Afra gathered together was diverse in a way that made him think of his own early training in his abilities, before he was put in the Tower training fast track with Capella's stationmaster. Three Finders of various flavors and types, one man a few years younger then Afra who seemed to be either clairvoyant or a pre-cog, three one-way telepaths, a macro telekinetic, and a chemist who might or might not be a micro telekinetic--the EEG went crazy on her with patterns that were within the normal range of those produced by telekinesis, but he couldn't sense exactly what she had changed. Of course, he'd been working on the macro side of things for so long his ability to manipulate objects smaller then a grain of sand wasn't exactly all that sharp.

Afra started the classes with a general overview of all the major types of Talent, promising to get into minor variants and wild Talents once they actually started to study each major type in more detail. He also pointed out who had what.

"Kelan, Dhea, and Thomas here are Finders--they can locate objects, places, and people, without having had any mundane connection to them before, and they likely have special affinities that, if they're unaware of them now, will emerge during the course of their training. Heather, Black, and Spokane are one-way telepaths. Heather and Spokane can hear thoughts and receive telepathic messages, and Black can send them. Joeseph is a telekinetic, he can move and teleport objects with his mind. Harry can either forsee things happening in the present, or things in the future--we're not sure which yet--and Fatima has telekinetic ability too, where she can move and alter mass with her mind, likely at a microscopic level or below.

"As for myself, I'm considered a Tower Talent. Tower Talent in its most basic form is a combination of telepathy and telekinesis. In my case I'm a two-way telepath, telekinetic, and also an telempath, which isn't strictly needed for Tower work, and isn't part of the normal definition of Tower Talent, but becomes more common in Tower Talents of the T-5 range or above."

"Are Primes all telempaths then?" Kelan asked, propping her head up in the palm of her hand, but still looking alert and curious.

"Usually yes, but not always--the late Siglen of Altair, who trained Prime Capella, David of Betelgeuse, and the Rowan, did not possess any telempathy."

"How do Talent ratings work? And when will we know ours?"

"Talent ratings are used most often for Tower Talent, but you can apply them to other types of Talent as well. Typically I should be able to give you a rough rating within the next two weeks or so, but for a finer tuned placement you would have to travel to an actual Tower, which would have the appropriate equipment.

"Ratings are based on a sliding scale, with Prime being a T-1 and everything going down from there. The current definition of Prime is somebody whose strength is such that with the right support and power supply, they can make contact with every planet in the Nine Star League. Actual range and strength do vary among Primes, with Earth Prime typically being the strongest Prime of a given generation.

"Typically, once the T-1 baseline is established, two T-2s with a good backup crew can do the work of one Prime, as can three T-3s, and, in theory, four T-4s, although in practice I doubt I would staff, say, a primary planetary Tower with four or even six T-4s if there was an alternative. The system does break away from the X many T-Xs can replace one T-1 formula right about there. Twelve T-12s, for example, could definitely not do the work of one T-1, even if all twelve were double telepaths and telekinetic, which at that level would be as rare to find as finding a T-1 is. Talents T-6 and below tend to have just one or two Talents, T-10 and below tend to only have one."

"Can your rating change?"

"It can to a degree, much the way a bodybuilder can become stronger with practice. I started out as a T-4, but once I started working regularly in a Tower, my ability grew greater and I tested later as a T-3."

"Can a T-2 become a T-1?"

"Good question. In theory, perhaps, but in practice it would be a poor choice to make such a person a Prime if they can reach every planet in the League--but only barely. That would be courting burnout of the person straddling the line between T-2 and T-1. They'd likely be treated as an extra-strong T-2, and partnered with another T-2 or possibly T-3 if they were to head up a Tower of any sort."

"This doesn't apply to Finders and stuff, though, does it?"

"Not in quite the same way, but it does--Finder and Pre-Cog and Clairvoyant Talents cap their T-1 levels based on the number of correct Findings, or predictions, and the wideness of their range, both in subject matter, and in physical time and space. For example, a T-1 Finder could track a grain of sand from Australia on Earth to the Arid Spans on Capella, and then turn around and track a piece of cloth from a garbage dump on Altair to the original manufacturer on Procyon, and likely even the tree the fibers of the cloth was produced from, whereas a Finder that isn't a T-1 would likely lose the trail at the first planetary jump, due to the sheer distances involved, and would have a limited focus that wouldn't allow them to track both geologically natural things such as sand, and manufactured things such as cloth."

"That would make a great murder mystery or something," Heather said, laughing. "Finder that can Find anything, across any sea, continent, or intergalactic space!"

"Hm," Afra said.

"You don't want to burst my bubble, do you? About the idea of a Finder Prime being really neat?"

"Each profession has its own pros and cons," Afra said ambiguously. "To be honest, I've never come across a T-1 Finder, but it's said Yegrani of Altair was a T-1 clairvoyant. She saved a lot of lives, both directly and indirectly."

For most of the morning, they went on like that--all of the young Talents he'd chosen for his first class were very curious about the different kinds of Talent, and how they could be used, and about the people who used them, and they were a endless source of questions, some of them very good that he had to get back to them on, mostly because working in Callisto Tower in particular shielded him a bit from the everyday emergencies and exposure to non-telepathic and non-telekinetic folks that planetary Towers had to deal with. Earth Tower, and Altair, and Capella and so on had natural disasters, crime, and the like to contend with, and as Heather had noted, Finders, clairvoyants, and pre-cogs were good at that sort of thing, pointing the way so telekinetics, if needed, could do the lifting.

Afra initially exposed all of them to the different basic training exercises for each psychic ability, because in Talent as new as theirs were, there was a possibility still that secondary Talents could emerge, and because there was always time to specialize later. Who knew, like him they could later end up providing training to Talents that didn't share the exact same parapsychic abilities. In fact, they probably would, as they uncovered new Talent on Deneb.

Out of the bunch, Heather was the most talkative--ironic, as her telepathy allowed her to hear thoughts only, and Kelan the most studious. Kelan seemed to have an affinity for finding sources of information, but Afra was unsure if that was a manifestation of her Talent, or just common sense. Thomas oddly enough didn't give him a lick of trouble, despite Isthia's assurances that his Talent area of specialization was Finding mischief, but perhaps he was just biding his time, studying his prey, which was the sense Afra got from him. Afra found an unexpected source of amusement in that; little did the boy know he'd spent most of his adult life dealing with the Rowan's tricks.

Harry and Fatima were the two odd ones of the bunch, and Afra wasn't sure if it was because they were the oldest, only a few years younger then him, or what; Harry would randomly avoid Afra on certain days, which made Afra uneasy because the young man was a pre-cog or clairvoyant, and he was unused to giving off vibes he couldn't somehow keep shielded in. But precognance and clairvoyance operated on different wavelengths, so to speak, from telepathy, and there was nothing Afra could do, which was both irritating and enlightening, in its own way.

Fatima, on the other hand, was a ball of telekinetic energy, although he couldn't figure out where she sinking all of it. Typically this sort of thing would manifest in "poltergeist" activity, where objects would move "on their own" in unpredictable patterns as the young kinetic let out the extra energy. It seemed that just knowing, and being around, other people with parapsychic abilities caused her Talent to go into a riot, and finally at the end of one day he kicked everyone but her out of the room, and asked her if he could link with her to see if he could figure out the exact direction her Talent was going in, and what it was doing, so they could rein it in before she harmed herself or others.

She agreed, and held out her hands across the table so he could clasp them.

"There's no need, and physical contact will likely let me see things in your mind you don't want me to see," Afra said, reminding her that physical contact deepened a telepath's touch.

"Okay," she said, pulling her hands back into her lap.

Linking kinetically with Fatima was an interesting experience. Afra's normal psychic "perspective" was often massive, the better to get his bearings in deep space where gigantic planets and stars were the only road markers. In comparison, linking with Fatima in a way that let her lead enough so he could see what she was doing squeezed his perspective down, and down, and down so that he felt as if he were being steamrolled flat, folded up, and steamrolled flat again.

Once he realized he was trying to keep his mental perspective human-size or larger, though, he stopped resisting, and the impression of being steamrolled flat, or of claustrophobia just around the corner, vanished.

She was most definitely a micro kinetic.

As she zoomed in on something, he had to hold her back as he tried to find his bearings without unleashing kinetic energy that, on this level, would be the equivalent of pouring molten lava around them or unleashing a thunderstorm in their laps. She got the idea after he did that twice, moving forward after a few moments, then stopping, then moving forward again.

It was probably one of the most fascinating things he'd done in a long, long time.

Finally they got to a level where everything he sensed was being perceived as...as rows upon rows of light switches, almost. Then her hand moved, and she placed something that seemed gigantic from this perspective, heavy and massive, but which his mind knew was actually the size of a grape, on the table. A plug of lead.

Then she started flipping light switches.

Her control was clumsy, she flipped back almost half the ones she flipped in the first place by accident due to the extra, unneeded kinetic energy arcing everywhere. After observing for a few moments, he stepped in, took her Talent firmly in hand, and duplicated what she was doing.

His end effort was somewhat spotty with places he missed, but the "air" was no longer thick with unused static kinetic energy, and he didn't undo half his own work by accident either. Patiently going back to fix the areas he missed, he showed her patience, and he showed her control, until they had a finished project.

Then he withdrew from their link and opened his eyes.

On the table, where she'd put a plug of lead before, was a somewhat larger nugget of pure gold.

Well, on closer inspection it did have a few strange-looking inclusions, but still. When Fatima opened her own eyes, she stared at it for a moment in disbelief, then jumped to her feet, whooping in delight.

Afra allowed himself a small half smile. The woman did indeed have one interesting Talent. Then his smile vanished as she reached down to grab it. Moving quickly he grabbed her hand and kept it away. "Hot."

her mind said before her mouth could form any words, but then she saw the nugget sat in a little scorched and cracked crater in the plastic top of the table.

He took a moment to cool the nugget down, then plucked it from the table (tugging a bit since it was stuck to the hardening plastic now) and handed it to her. "Put a hole in it, and string a chain through, and wear it. But not in any place where you might be robbed," he warned in almost a proverb. Her Talent was interesting, but dangerous to herself if she let anyone know she could quite literally turn lead into gold...or anything other element she desired.

She looked at him, her face shining, and did a dance around the room, kicking up her heels, and shaking her butt and arms. Afra chuckled at that, as pleased with her accomplishment as she was herself.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

Later that evening, Earth Prime called him a pinhead. _What is this? It's like you're a gnat or something, buzzing in my ear. I'm having the urge to use a flyswatter on you._ And Afra felt a mime of a gigantic telekinetic swat the size of Jupiter waft over his "head".

_I've been working with a micro kinetic, sorry,_ Afra apologized.

_What was that? Speak up, I can't hear you!_

Afra knew quite well that Jeff had heard him, but modulated the presence of his mind into something more typical of a Tower Talent. _Better?_

_Oh there you are,_ Jeff pretended to bluster_. And what was this about a micro kinetic?_ he added in a more normal tone.

_She can go beyond Ruth Horvath's manipulation of DNA and change atoms of one type into atoms of another,_ he said referencing an early Talent from the very first days of Talent history, before the FT&T. _We turned lead into gold._

_Oh, so we're alchemists now?_ A surprised blue/chuckling laugh. _And soothsayers and mind-readers..._

_Fatima is, apparently. I just went along for the ride and showed her some control. We have a soothsayer and a couple of mind-readers too. Deneb's quite the hotbed of sorcery._

Jeff played a few quick introductory bars of the Twelve Days of Christmas. _Fiiiive mind-read-ers! Four Fiinders, Three sooth-sayers, Two alchemists, and a partridge in a pear tree..._

_Do new Talents always remind you of Christmas, Jeff?_

_It's like opening up presents,_ Jeff said with a grin. _Let me know how they develop, particularly the alchemist._

_Will do._

_Have a good evening, my friend. _And with that farewell, Jeff Raven's presence disappeared from Afra's mind.

Afra opened his eyes, yawned and stretched out on the bed, dinging his knuckles against the wall behind him. He gave a small, "Hmph," at that, and massaged the hand.

Isthia had loaned him a room temporarily, until he worked out suitable accommodations somewhere else. If he wanted to leave, that was; he caught the thought that she would like him to stay, and help out. The thought was a bit wistful, and he concluded that the reasons she wanted him around was less than because she needed another pair of hands (although _he_ would if he were in her position), and more that she thought he'd be a good role model for Ian, who was becoming a very rambunctious little boy. Not to mention Afra was the godfather of Jeran and Cera as well.

"Afra!"

_Speak of the devil..._

A black-haired whirling menace clad in pajamas ran into the room and bounced onto his chest with the casual disregard for personal space that much of the Raven clan displayed. "I want to go riding!"

"It's dark Ian, and you're dressed to bed. You should _be_ in bed. And how did you know I was still awake?" he asked, implying gently that just running into someone's room without knocking was rude.

"I could hear your mind," he confessed. "Just to see you were awake. You were talking to Jeff. I didn't pry," he asserted confidently, to make sure Afra understood that. "But I want to go riding, and mom says I need to go with an adult. I have a pony!" He shifted back to sit on Afra's belly.

Afra reached up and brushed a bit of hair out of the boy's eyes. "I'm afraid we can't go riding tonight, I need to sleep, and you need to sleep too. We'll see about tomorrow."

The boy huffed his annoyance, and Afra narrowed his eyes. "We don't have to go tomorrow, either," he warned sternly.

_I know. I'm sorry. I'm just so bored, I don't want to sleep. Why are your eyes yellow?_

Afra snorted. "Why are your eyes blue?"

"Because when I chose eyeballs, that's what I picked," Ian said, pronouncing the P with a popping sound, before he grinned. A memory of the phrase "when god handed out brains, you were at the end of the line, weren't you?" crossed his mind, showing Afra what he'd riffed on to make up that comment.

"I chose yellow."

"But nobody else has yellow eyes!"

"They do where I come from. And before you ask, yes, they have green skin too. That's why we call ourselves Capellans, rather than Denebians."

Ian studied Afra for a while, and Afra could hear his mind working things out. Ian was pretty sure Afra was lying, but he liked playing pretend, so he was trying to think up something clever to say. Which made perfect sense in Ian's young mind. "If I went to Capella, would my skin turn green?"

"That's a good question. If you went to Capella and stayed there for a very long time, you would end up greenish, but not as green as I am."

"If I stayed there an hour, would I turn green?"

"Not long enough."

"A day?"

"Nope."

"A week?"

"Nope."

"A month?"

"You might end up end up being slightly green around the gills if you stayed for a month straight at your age."

"I don't have gills!"

"Maybe you would on Capella."

"Naaahhh." he shook his head. "A year?"

"You would definitely be a bit green in some lights if you went to Capella and stayed for a year."

"Why?"

"Something in the environment interacts with melanin in your skin, if you live there when you're still young. If you go there when you're grown up, you won't turn green, no matter how long you stay."

"Weird!"

"I agree, but then again I never got into biology much."

"Why not?" Ian asked with a gleam in his eye.

"If you turn this into a game of why, I'm sending you back to your room," Afra said.

"It's not," Ian said innocently, pretending the thought never crossed his mind, when Afra had watched it progress from thought to lips--admittedly a short distance for a child of any age.

"Shield when you say that and you might be more believable."

Ian wrinkled his nose. "You sure we can't go ride ponies tonight?"

"Absolutely. Go off to sleep; tomorrow's another day and we'll see what happens then."

As Ian slid off his belly to the floor, and walked out, Afra had a moment of irrational anger that he'd never be able to have the same conversation with Damia.

"'night, Afra."

"Goodnight, Ian."

It wasn't the boy's fault, obviously, but he resented Ian for having the good sense not to try to teleport at age three. And he also regretted the ease with which a Talented child could get into mischief. Ian didn't know it was possible yet, but he could easily monitor both Afra's and Isthia's minds to make sure they were asleep, and then go out and ride one of the ponies himself. The boy was telekinetic, and had watched the ponies being tacked up before, it would just take a bit of mental elbow grease and some patience to put the gear on them. And then he could get thrown when the pony lost its footing in the dark Denebian night.

With depressing thoughts like that in his head, Afra could understand why Isthia had developed a long ear. He would too, if he had to worry about a passel of Talented children getting into trouble the moment his back was turned. And he understood again the danger of raising a high Talent child within the Callisto domes. Undoubtedly the Rowan and Jeff felt it more keenly than he, which is why the children were here now. Bill Ackerman's children would be fine, the bulk of their Talent wouldn't fully mature until they were in their teens, so there would be no way they could accidentally circumvent the safety features in place, but any child displaying the Talent of Jeran, Cera, Damia, or Ian could potentially just pop right out the dome. And the dome Rowan's quarters were in had one side that looked out onto the stark moonscape, just two sheets of dome crystal between her quarters and hard, cold vacuum. Talk about temptation. He wasn't sure why, when staring out at the moonscape himself, he hadn't realized the dangers beforehand.

Unless he had, but figured the Rowan and Jeff were clever enough to be aware of the danger. He couldn't remember if that had happened or not.

Afra sighed, and with a conscious effort, tried to relax into sleep. He also swung his bedroom door closed, to provide a minimal barrier should Ian get the idea to come into his room at the crack of dawn and bounced on his chest again. He didn't mind the kid jumping on him (although it amused him how _he_ would have gotten grounded for weeks if he had done that to a visitor--strange how different human cultures were, sometimes), but it had been a long day, with a long day tomorrow, and although Deneb's sunrises were undeniably beautiful, it was probably unhealthy to see too many of them.

He let his mind drift, and before long, sleep swept up to take him away.

-------

Dust glittered on the palm of his hand, slightly sticky and tenacious. Afra pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, and wiped it off, but then something caught the corner of his eye, and when he looked up at the old-style gas lamp jutting out from the corridor, he saw a giant Jupiter moth hell-bent on immolating itself on the dancing ice-blue flame.

He saved the moth by grabbing it with his hands, which smeared rust-and-brown glimmers all over his palms again, and vowed he would speak to Ackerman about gas lamps in the corridors--someone could get hurt, and Damia wasn't above climbing up on a stool--or maybe even levitating--and messing with the open flame.

Shaking his head in unusual ill-humor, with a grimace turning the corner of his mouth down, Afra stalked down the corridors. He came across several crewmembers, but they all glided out of his way deferentially, the pricks of shielded thoughts in their minds similar to those displayed when the Rowan stalked by like a Queen in one of her turbulent bad moods. He looked over his shoulder in case the Rowan was following him, but he was the only one there.

He took the stairs to her quarters, moth still held caged in his hands, and when he saw the door ajar, slipped in. Rowan seemed nowhere about, so, aware he was invading her territory without her permission, he quickly crossed into the pool and garden area, and looked around for an appropriate flower to put the moth on.

The moth sat still for a few long moments on the large tiger-lily he chose, its stubby, furry antennae waving, and its legs testing out the springiness of the petals. It waved its wings once or twice, then suddenly took off, avoiding flying into Afra's face only because he leapt back out of the way. It flew bobbing a bit on a brief tour of the garden, tasting a flower here, sipping nectar there, before swinging around and making a beeline to bash itself silly into one of the illuminated globes in the garden.

Afra felt an irrational anger at it. "The flowers aren't good enough for you?" he asked, the typical barrier of protocol between thoughts and action in his mind seemingly absent. It continued bashing itself against the smooth white curves of the globe, heedless of him or his anger, leaving irregular rust-brown glimmers and splotches on it, marks that matched the ones on his hands.

He rubbed his hands clean on his handkerchief again, and wondered how to save the moth from the fate it was inflicting on itself. It would almost seem he would have to put it in a terrarium of some kind, sealed with perhaps a few air holes, and with light sources well away so it wouldn't bludgeon itself to death on them.

_Afra!_

Afra startled like a guilty schoolboy, something he hadn't done since he was a very small child and unaware of all the benefits of Talent--including being able to monitor who was coming close to him. _Rowan?_ he asked, sure that she was about to deliver a tirade about her personal space to him. He did richly deserve it.

But she didn't reply, so he hesitantly retraced his steps, stopping here and there as he searched for a glimpse of silvery-white hair and the slender woman that would be beneath it. The Rowan wasn't in her garden, however.

He found her in her kitchen, perched at the bar, her tiny bare feet curled unselfconsciously around the rungs, with a sheet of real, genuine paper in front of her, and a bottle of scarlet ink he had given her long ago when she expressed interest in learning calligraphy to him. He had given her a few lessons, even guiding her hand with his own a few times, before they gave it up for a lost cause. Her handwriting was functional and clean, like an engineer's, and she just didn't seem made for calligraphy, even if she appreciated its style.

At first he thought she was writing a poem, something wildly out of character for her, but coming closer saw she was writing out a recipe...which was still unusual. He leaned over her shoulder to watch, as she, her tongue touching her lower lip in concentration, painstakingly wrote out the amount of thyme needed in the concoction. Her Talent kept her in good stead; she caught a few drips of ink that would have ruined the entire thing before they could splatter like bloody raindrops on the fine-grained paper.

"What are you doing?" he asked curiously.

"Writing down a recipe," she said.

"I _never_ would have guessed," he said with a touch of sarcasm, and she turned to look at him, with her nose wrinkled with amusement at his attitude.

He leaned over her, picking up a brief whiff of her perfume, and watched, noticing that many of the ingredients in the recipe were ones he enjoyed, and that the end dish was likely absolutely delicious. He was about to ask her for a copy, so he could try it out himself, when she spoke.

"I'm sending it to Jeff, so he doesn't subsist on hardtack and biscuits, or whatever you men who can't cook eat when there's a war on."

He closed his mouth again, hoping she hadn't heard the unspoken question, or felt the sudden pang of his heart constricting, and trying to hide somewhere behind his lungs. But she seemed oblivious to his feelings, his fine Methody upbringing serving him well.

He hovered over her shoulder, unwilling to move away despite the bruised feeling in his chest, and watched her slowly, painstakingly, complete the transcription of the recipe with a patience she had never displayed under his tutelage. During this time the moth found its way out of the garden to the inside, and started to noisily ping and bang its way around the kitchen, testing each light for the biggest, brightest flame to immolate itself against.

"Ugh," the Rowan said, putting her calligraphy pen down. "Who let the moth in?"

"Your door was open," Afra started to explain himself.

"Somehow no matter how you spray down the cargo hold they always manage to get loose in the station. Why can't it be butterflies?"

With a panicked grab, he interrupted her reach for it and brought it to himself safely. It was bedraggled now from its self-destructive actions, one of its antennae bent and the edges of its wings torn.

"Fine, you dispose of it then, or keep it in your rooms, or whatever, if you want a giant ugly bug flying around."

Afra wanted to defend the poor thing, but the lump in his throat let him know he would weep if he opened his mouth. So instead he left, carrying the moth and his wounded dignity with him, and making sure that the door to her quarters was closed firmly behind him as he exited.

-------

The ray of light that was assaulting his eyeball behind his eyelid awoke him, and he lay still in his bed for a long moment as the sorrow from the dream tried to make itself manifest in real life. _Well thanks, Freud, for bending me over your knee and making me your bitch,_ Afra thought, the absence of protocol from the dream still active in his sleep-hazed mind. He swallowed back the lump in his throat.

_If you were younger, __I'd__ bend you over my knee,_ Isthia said. _You've been acting like an idiot for over a month and a half now._

Afra's shields went up again, war-fortress style, and he sincerely, _sincerely_ hoped Isthia hadn't been monitoring that dream. About the only thing worse than mooning over the Rowan in his sleep while living in the house of the Rowan's _husband's mother_ would have been if the dream had turned into one of those dreams typical of men and boys of all ages when they dreamed of women they fancied.

Shame and embarrassment burned his cheeks a deeper rosy-green.

But by the time he came downstairs for breakfast, he had control over himself, although not the willpower to ask Isthia is she had only been responding to his unusually colorful thought, or more than that. He did apologize on a tight band for his word choice, however.

_If you want to refer to yourself as a female dog, that's your prerogative_, Isthia replied, before preventing Jeran from dumping an entire container of sugar on his breakfast cereal.

_Good to know,_ Afra said dryly.

-------

**Author's Note:** I think Jeff was channeling the spirit of Reidinger in this chapter. I like Reidinger, and if he wasn't dead at this point in the timeline, I'd use him. Although he probably would have smacked Afra upside the head or insulted his honor or roared at him that he was a coward (again) or something by now if Afra tried to resign on him. Terrorizing and bribery and torture via mind-burns - life in the FT&T! ;-) Jeff dropped the torturing part, though, haven't seen him mind-burn anyone yet.

Also, many, many thanks for the comments by PernDragonrider, Renegade Elementalist, granath at A Meeting of Minds, and cathrl - all of your comments have been positive and/or constructive criticism, so I must be doing something right. Except for the whole then/than thing. I'll work harder to get rid of those errors!

And also, I must give additional credit to granath for the Towerdex; I don't have my books on me, so having a source of names and other canon things I can get at on the web has been beyond invaluable. She even has the pets listed! For which Ringle, Afra's coonie, is glad of, since he'll eventually appear in this fic. You can visit the Towerdex here: www geocities com/mhallfors/amc/index.html (replace the spaces with dots)


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

"You don't happen to know where I can find a Geiger counter, do you?" Afra asked Dean Raven, Jeff's younger brother who was also a surgeon in Deneb City.

"I could probably help you find one," Dean said, "But may I ask _why_ you need one?" Confusion/suspicion was yellow/spicy in his mind.

"I'm training Talents," Afra said innocently.

"...It won't pick up sting-pzzt, if that's what you're after."

"Every Talent's a walking dosimeter for sting-pzzt," Afra said. "No, I'm looking for a bona-fide Geiger counter, in case I need to dispose of my work table."

They were quiet for a long moment. "Heh," Dean said, when it was clear that Afra wasn't going to elaborate. "Mom just told me to help you if you needed it; does she know what you're asking for?"

"Jeff would have an idea," Afra said.

"I see." He considered that, his long surgeon's fingers playing with a stylus, weaving it in and out of his fingers. "I could probably get one for you in an hour or two; can you wait that long?"

"I don't see how it could get any _worse_ in an hour or two," Afra said on purpose, just for the amusement factor of watching Dean give him a once-over again.

"Mmm."

"If anyone needs medical attention, I'll let you know," Afra assured him with a straight face.

"Mmm."

_Why do you need a Geiger counter?_ Isthia asked suddenly.

_Ask Jeff._

_I will. And I see where Rowan picked up that ambiguous facade she uses when she's up to something,_ she said with amusement.

_Mmm,_ Afra said, as Dean snorted.

"Well...come back in two hours, I'll have one for you then. But if the hospital finds out it's gone before you return it, it's on your head."

"My deepest thanks," and Afra gave him a respectful bow before leaving Dean Raven's office.

-------

"Oh my, I didn't even consider that, and I'm a chemist!" Fatima said, as she stood still and submitted to Afra's quick scan of her body with the device. She gave off less radiation than he did, and both of them were well below any danger point, which was a relief. The table with the crater in it, on the other hand, seemed rather impregnated with radiation, which was both regrettable and amusing as Afra imagined Dean's expression when he came back with the Geiger counter to ask him where radioactive waste was disposed of on this particular planet.

"I wouldn't repeat our experiment until we find a suitable facility for it, but there are other ways to use micro kinesis without splitting atoms," Afra said.

"I can't believe I didn't think of this myself. All my work looking at electrons and protons and the periodic table and everything, and not once did I consider changing that around would be just like starting a nuclear reactor! I am _so stupid_..."

"No harm was done; you seem to have instinctively cleaned up whatever radiation affected us, although it still remains to see if we're sterile now or not," he joked.

"That's not funny!"

He put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it to reassure her, as she couldn't pick up the emotions he projected, and there was no need to lean on her quiet yet. "We're fine, I'm sure of it. But the others are coming; we'll need to find another place to hold our classes in until we get that table removed."

"...and I ruined your table..." she bemoaned, looking at the nugget of gold she had hung around her neck as he had suggested as if it were the cause, and not the result, of the radiation.

"We'll get a new one. Come."

The FT&T was due to send him a couple of supplies for training today, although unfortunately it was too late to slip in a request for a table. But it would make more sense just to get a table from somewhere on Deneb; there was no reason a worktable needed to have a FT&T stamp of approval on it.

So Afra walked out to the site of the future Deneb Tower, which had nothing but an already weathered sign proclaiming the large tracts of land around it belonged to the FT&T, and a little windowless box that housed the lone generator Isthia and the other Talents used the few times they needed to catch something inbound, or send something out. His trainees trailed behind him, like a flock of ducklings. "Behold, the future site of Deneb Tower."

"Niiiiceee!" Thomas joked. "I mean, this is really swank."

Afra shrugged a shoulder. It had a generator and a basic FT&T com console, which is all he really needed to make a catch. Even Jeff Raven, Earth Prime, couldn't push through a budget for building this Tower until they had located a Prime to run it. At the super-sonic rate they were discovering and training new Primes (before Jeff was discovered, the Rowan had been the only Prime to pop up in several decades), it looked likely Deneb would have to wait for Jeran or Cera to mature to adulthood. Two decades, give or take a few years, assuming that one of them at least would make Prime, and also assuming nothing happened to any of the Primes currently in place.

Afra got the generated started and warmed up, although there was a strange resonance that even his not-particularly-mechanically-inclined ears frowned upon. Nothing if not efficient, he used that as an excuse to give a quick lesson on generator maintenance, stripping off the outer cosmetic shell and poking and prodding parts until he found the noisy one and gave it a quick smack to sit it properly in its compartment. "Nothing is more disconcerting than being in the middle of a long-range send or catch and having your generator start shedding parts like a coonie sheds fur. It's probably the most common cause of unintentional burnout, after overwork and exhaustion, and using poor shielding with strong lovers."

"Wait, what?" Heather asked, while pretty much everyone's mind seized on the idea of sex. _Heh,_ Afra thought.

"Don't mind-merge with the person you're canoodling with while you're canoodling with them unless either you or they have a burnout wish. This applies mostly to telepaths, but it's very important. There's a chapter about it in that text we haven't been using."

"Suddenly reading my text became that much more interesting," Heather said with a laugh.

"Want to read it together after class?" Thomas asked her, and she smacked him.

Wiping grease and oil off of his hands onto his handkerchief--and trying not to be reminded of his earlier dream--he started up the generator again, and the com, and had the students gather around him while he entered his name, submitted to a quick identity scan, and logged both the generator maintenance and his intent to catch a small load of cargo. "If any of you end up in a Tower, this is both the most important part, and most tedious. You don't move a matchstick without documenting it. Keeps the number of lost and found drones being passed around from tower to tower down. Primes don't like to waste their time 'porting drones full of junk back to Earth to be sorted out."

Afra closed the record out, then leaned back in the chair, feeling odd it wasn't a proper Tower chair that could recline. "Heather, Spokane, Fatima, Joeseph; I'm going to bring you into a merge, one by one, and then we are going to meet Prime Rowan of Callisto as she pushes out our package to us. You may want to sit down on something, this will be a little different from the practice merges we've done, because of the distance, and because we'll be catching, rather than throwing. Fatima--if the perspective becomes too much for you, drop out of the merge. You're a micro kinetic, not a macro kinetic, and we don't want to force your Talent to do something it can't."

"Yes sir."

"And everyone--try to relax, merging is easier if you don't fight it."

Once everyone had settled down, Afra slowly drew each of the four into the merge, starting with the telepaths, and ending with Fatima. With the telepaths, he felt like he had suddenly springier shoes...or ears...as they added their power to his. T-10s, or T-11s he thought. Joeseph, when added, was a solid enough presence in his mind, making Afra think of, oh, a T-8 or so. More than a whisper, at least. But what surprised him most was Fatima--his strength and range expanded considerably with her. He hadn't _noticed_ this with her the other afternoon, but then again, taking him on a trip to look at what she was doing with atoms was different from merging her entire untapped potential of strength with him.

Hmm. He rose with the merge, and then went out to Deneb's moons, monitoring everyone's status as he did so. The telepaths were relying on his Talent to protect them almost instantly, and Joeseph's range capped out at a couple of klicks. Fatima kept going strong all the way to the moons, though, so on a whim, he reached farther, drawing on the steady rumbling energy of the generators, and pushed them out and out and out.

He eventually reached his own limit, far out in the blackness of space, and stopped to take inventory. With Fatima behind him, he didn't feel any stretch or strain, and he knew she was at least a T-4, probably a bit higher. _This is my limit,_ he told her, making her hear him. _But with this merge I can go farther. Are you up for it?_

She couldn't reply, not in so many words, but he felt the assent in her mind. So at a snail's pace, he inched forward just a few light years per moment, and eventually entered Earth's solar system.

_Rowan? _he asked, when he felt Callisto station pause in its daily business of flinging cargo.

_Afra Lyon?_ she asked on a band that the entire merge could hear.

_Here to pick up my goods._

_Overachiever. You were supposed to just catch. Ackerman! Is Afra's drone ready?_

_Yes it is, the boys are moving it to a cradle now. It'll be ready in a sec..._

_Why is everyone in your group thinking about sex? _The Rowan asked him on a personal band as they waited.

Afra laughed. _My inventive teaching style,_ he said.

_...I wish my teachers had been that inventive._

Afra steadfastly ignored and shielded the thoughts that comment provoked, which suddenly became a lot easier when Afra remembered Siglen had trained Rowan, as far as he knew. He rather thought he was missing something then, but decided not to comment. Different strokes for different folks and all.

The Rowan caught the thought anyway though, at least the one about Siglen, and exploded into laughter on a wider wavelength, which pricked Heather and Spokane's curiosity.

_Oh, no no no no __no__, Afra!_ More laughter.

_Do you have cargo for me?_ Afra asked, trying to turn the conversation back to business.

_Yes I do, Deneb, he just said it's ready to go. Hm, odd to call you Deneb. You need to come back here and be Callisto, at least when I'm not around._ Her tone turned slightly frustrated. _Your 'replacement' is useless._

_I don't think I'd look quite right as a Greek nymph, _Afra said.

_You did just fine before._ More amusement again, fading from lavender to purple with vanilla overtones. _Here it comes..._

Afra felt the surge of the Callisto dynamos revving up for the 'port, and

readied

himself

for

the

ca...

Pain. Pain _pain pain._ Afra ejected the three out of his mind before he could suck them dry and grabbed generators on both Deneb and Callisto and rode the sick/hot/volcanic rumbles back to his body in the flash of a microsecond. He got overexposed and scorched impressions of the students around him panicked, confused, and a wail of remorse from Fatima that might have been auditory or telepathic before his mind folded in on itself, the outer shell feeling crisped to cinders.

_HARRY MARKELL!_ The Rowan was enraged and the words reverberated in everyone's head like a hangover's lovechild with the inside of a timpani.

_...oh fuck..._

"Mister Lyon?" a frightened almost-whispered question, and a physical touch that created flares of pain from the unknowing psychic bond that touch created with a telepath.

There was a faint noise from outside and above, gradually dopplering higher and higher in pitch and a little voice in Afra's head hoped to dear god that the cargo container wasn't going to crash down on them in a direct hit. "Joeseph, try to shield us from debris..." he managed to get out of his mouth. Or at least he thought he did.

"What?"

Afra's half-formed fear wasn't realized however, but it did hit nearby in an impressive boom. Strangely there were no secondary shocks from the thing cracking apart and the cargo itself scattering over the ground. Either good engineering, or...

_Fatima, what happened?_ Earth Prime said.

The woman began to sob. "Harry said something horrible was going to happen, he shook me and woke me up..."

Incredulousness that anyone would do something as stupid as "waking up" somebody in the middle of a merge. _Gods-be-damned self-fulfilling prophecy..._

_Someone tell Afra Dean and I are coming,_ Isthia said. _Tell him not to use his mind._

_I...heard..._Afra said, opening his eyes and struggling to his feet to try to take some charge of the chaotic people around him

_Don't use your mind!_ Three minds hissed at him in the softest, gentlest way that still made his head feel like a zeppelin on fire with the direct telepathic contact.

Hands on his shoulders, trying to steady him. "I am so so so so so sorry sir," mortification in Harry's voice.

"Don't touch me," Afra said, trying to erect shields to stop the mingled telepathic/clairvoyant/precognitive flashes that seared his mind. It sounded like a rejection however--_you did this to me, don't touch me_. He didn't have the energy to explain, though, it was difficult enough to control his physical shell when his mind was trying to retreat into some sort of hibernation.

Harry snatched his hands away.

Isthia and Dean Raven arrived shortly after, Dean rounding up the students to make sure they suffered no harm while Earth Prime simultaneously interrogated them. In the background someone, probably the Rowan, gathered up bits and pieces of the cargo container and its contents out of the small crater and stacked them neatly next to the building that housed the generator. Isthia's smooth, cool hands cleansed of psychic impressions helped Afra sit on the edge of the medical sled, and tilted his face up so she could touch his temples and check out the damage the unexpected termination of Fatima's strength and power had caused.

"I'm a fool, Isthia," he said, referring to how he leaned on Fatima's strength to extend his own range. Never mind that it was a common and often necessary technique in the FT&T among non-Prime Talents of his T rating.

"Shush. I'm putting you to sleep."

And his mind fell into unconsciousness.

-------

**Author's note:** Yeah, I know Damia invented the term "sting-pzzt". "sting-pzzt" is such a descriptive term though that it's really hard to think up an alternative that would provide the same feeling/sound. So rather than coming up with a hokey replacement term for the sake of canon-compliancy for an AU where Damia never came to Deneb, I left it in. FYI.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

"When do you think you can resume active duty on Callisto?" Earth Prime asked Afra neutrally as they sat in one of the common areas in Blundell, looking out through the window at a carefully manicured strip of garden while travelers expecting to be 'ported to their destinations during the afternoon wave of outbounds hurried to their gates behind them. A gentle ping sounded over the com system before a soothing tenor voice patiently gave a brief overview of where to find assistance if it was needed for travelers new to Earth Tower.

Afra sipped at his drink, savoring the taste slowly before swallowing it and speaking. "I'm fumbling cargo."

"You're a T-2 now, it's to be expected, like a teenager lurching into things because their body is growing faster than their mental perception of themselves can adjust."

Afra shook his head. "It's not that, I can reach and grasp fine. But my nerve isn't there."

Jeff tapped his fingers on the nuwood inserts on the arm of the chair he was sitting in, as he thought about this. "It had nothing to do with you. Harry had a vision that self-fulfilled because he was stupid enough to bother Fatima, and Fatima didn't have enough experience to ignore her body while in merge."

"Dare I pipe up about that part that _was_ my fault?" Afra asked with dark humor.

"No, don't, I'm actually quite sick of it. The Rowan has been seven months without you. To be honest I didn't quite believe that thing about her chewing Seconds up and spitting them out like used chewing gum before she found you, but I'm a believer now. She hates them all. My notes on the subject are staring to look like Reidinger's. And...ah...husbandly persuasion doesn't make a difference. I've tried all the male Talents of proper rating and training, and I can't switch Gollee in because he's taken up most of the duties of finding and training our next generation here, he needs to be in Blundell, not in orbit around Jupiter. Mauli and Mick are needed elsewhere, and I'm sure trying a female Talent is just a disaster waiting to happen. The Rowan. _Needs_ _you_."

"Jeff. My nerve is shot, Rowan can't be following me around in case I _drop_ something."

"Gollee tells me it only happens at the former edge of your reach as a T-3. So act like a T-4, don't do anything a T-4 couldn't do, I'll still pay you as a T-2."

"Pay's not the issue."

"Do you want an assistant? I'll pair you up with some T-4 or T-5, and..."

Afra was insulted. "I don't need a nursemaid," he said, his pride stinging.

"Well I don't know what else to do. I need you on Callisto. Do you want me to get on bended knee and beg? We have a fine audience here," he said, waving at the streams of people passing, pulling their luggage along.

Afra stared at the other man, unsure if Jeff would actually do that or not. Jeff stared back, and before it could become an outright challenge, Afra looked back down at his drink. "Why does Harry avoid me?"

Jeff blinked, then answered smoothly. "If I'd been him and screwed up that big, I'd avoid you too. He's absolutely mortified that things cascaded into reality because he had a vision about it that he acted on without thinking it through."

"Don't deflect the question. He was avoiding me before then, and he's cloistered in with all the other clairvoyants and precogs now--his arbitrary rating indicates he's fairly strong, as is the telepathy he developed. I'm sure he'll be classified with a high T rating once he's rated formally."

Jeff tapped his fingers against the nuwood again. "He's been experiencing some vision slippage, which confuses him and causes him distress. It's likely a part of the reason he's been avoiding you."

"I'm not familiar with that term, vision slippage..."

"In the aftermath of a major disaster, clairvoyants, particularly strong ones, will sometimes predict things that _can't_ happen, due to the visions revolving around a person or place that's had a status change. IE, if a person died in the disaster, or was promoted or demoted after the disaster, or were crippled in some way."

"He's picking up the liner. Or Damia," Afra stated, feeling a mingled horror and hope.

"Mmmm...I don't think so. That's not what I get when he shares them with me, and I would be all over any vision about Damia." Jeff shook his head, looking sad. "To be honest, I think he's picking up your general mood."

"I didn't realize he's an empath..."

"He's not, but your mood influences what you do. Ever since the liner, you've been very negative. Not all the time, we can get a smile out of you sometimes," and Jeff sent a flutter of amusement at Afra's stoicism his way, "but as a baseline. You're in a position of power, whether you admit it or not, you haven't been feeling too hot about yourself or your abilities--its bound to cause some swirls in the clairvoyant and precognitive sector."

Afra rubbed his face with a hand, feeling the tautness his self-imposed blank, stoic looks had instilled in his facial muscles. "And they're triggered by my presence?"

"Indeed. And Rowan to a lesser extent. I don't even blip on his radar."

"What does he see?"

"Very little that makes sense to me, very little of it is visual. It's a conglomerate of mostly sounds, scents, and sensations. It almost seems as if there's also a false-color representation of Talent in there as well, like he's getting visions with information and sensations only someone with a particular set of Talents could interpret properly, and since he's a clairvoyant/precog with some two-way telepathy, anything else would elude his interpretation."

"His focus is Talent, isn't it?" Afra guessed.

Jeff considered this. "Could be. In fact, that's a better guess than many I've had so far. A clairvoyant/precog precogging in _six_ senses, so to speak, seeing things from the perspective of a Talent. That would explain a lot of the 'noise'."

"Like a precog that is congenitally deaf with no neonatal intervention trying to explain audible noise in their visions."

"Yessss..." Jeff stared out the window again, lost in thoughts that were shielded so Afra couldn't pick them up. Then he glanced at Afra again. "You changed the subject."

Afra smiled faintly. "Not really," he said, but didn't elaborate. "The inability to shield from Harry is disturbing, but clairvoyants and precogs operate on a separate band from telepathy and empathy I suppose." Afra examined the shoe he had crossed over his knee. "I'd like to see the visions he has around me."

"I could show you what--"

"I think by the time a telepath connects to him and scans his memory, the sensations may already saved to memory falsely. Because he can't understand them, not fully. But if someone is linked to him, someone who can make sense of the impressions as the vision plays out..."

"Telepathically linking with a precog as they're precogging isn't for the faint of heart. But I fail to see how this will get your rump back in Callisto Tower." _Me-me-me,_ Jeff added with a grin, trying to lighten his dogged determination that Afra put himself back in orbit where he was needed.

"Maybe it will tell me why I'm fumbling things..."

"You don't think you're gun shy at going beyond your range because of the burn you received when Fatima dropped out from the merge?"

_That's part of it,_ Afra said, avoiding thoughts of the drugged, demented sleep he'd been forced into so his mind could recover. At one point they had treated him like a physical burn victim, as his mind, bent out of shape, started crossing psychic signals with nervous signals. He still occasionally woke up feeling as if he'd been sunburned on the beach, despite his skin being the normal color. Afra suddenly realized he was thinking of it anyway, and moved himself back on track. _That's part of it, but not all of it. I'm repressing something, and three quarters of a year later it's still bothering me. Observing the visions he's having of me might jiggle it loose, and let it mend itself._

_You'd rather not have Elizara link with you and search for it?_ Jeff asked. _What if you do jiggle it loose, after all? What then?_

_I repress it harder around her._

_How about my mom?_

_Her too._

Jeff considered this. "Alright, how's this. We go ask him if he's willing to do such a thing--there's no guarantee he'll want you in his mind at all--and if he is willing, you get yourself straightened out, and then head back to Callisto. If he's not willing, you go talk to Elizara and get her to knock it down the hard way. Deal?" He ran his hands through his hair. _I don't mean to be a hard-ass about it, but again..._

_The Rowan needs me. I __do__ understand, but a me that's not functioning at my best might be more trouble than it's worth. Probably __will__ be. I promise once this is over with, I'll return. I sort of miss having a gigantic, baleful, evil-looking planet hanging above me like some sort of red star to start and end my day._

The other man chuckled. "Well then." Jeff arose, and stretched. "Back to flinging cargo."

Afra arose too, still sipping at his drink, and for a while they just stood there and watched more passengers go by. Then Jeff Raven touched the earpiece curled around his ear, and sighed. "I'm needed. I'll be in touch." And with that he sauntered away and through a doorway marked _FT&T Personnel Only!_

-------

Harry agreed to let Afra link with him, but with such combined uneasiness/wariness/irritation and other negative emotions that Afra considered thanking Harry for agreeing, but backing out anyway. But Harry caught that thought at least one time (proof seven months of training his telepathic Talents at Earth Tower hadn't gone to waste) and cornered Afra with a meandering, but heartfelt explanation of why he wanted to go through even though he didn't really.

The man had a sense of duty.

It turned out, however, that keeping a light link with a precog in order to catch them in the process of precogging was something akin to watching water boil and/or saying "bless you!" proactively when someone was looking like they're about to sneeze, and thereby preventing any sneezing from happening at all. Nothing happened for two whole weeks, even when they went to have coffee together to try to trigger it by physical proximity, and Harry joked that they should have done this earlier.

When it finally did happen, Afra was in a park, trying to lure a young, feral coonie into eating the bits of fruit he had on him, and unintentionally feeding the flocks of pigeons that stalked around, brazenly cooing and eyeing him with beady red eyes, instead.

_Gestalt._ Afra tried to snatch his mind out of it, alarmed to be gestalting out of control with some unknown power source in the middle of a park before he realized the flavor of Harry was all around him, like some sort of strange thick syrup. Then he was in the vastness of space, feeling the mass of a moon slide by under his fingertips, and then another planet, and another, out past the heliopause. There was a mind out there, in a stronghold of heavy elements urged to catalyze themselves into a power-generating frenzy. _Damia,_ he said, not knowing why he addressed a dead woman, but feeling that it was proper. The words slipped suddenly as they left his mind, however, the thought split apart like light through a prism, and he knew the sensations he had were a conglomerate of truth and untruth, something that could happen, and something that was impossible. An eerie feeling crept down his spine, as if someone had trodden on his grave.

Then, dreamlike, the scene changed. Callisto Tower. A normal day, although the norm of slinging cargo around and sensing people's emotions took on a radical new gleam, as if he'd just discovered he had hands and was astounded by the fact. But stronger than that, yet covered up deeply, heartache. There was nothing to look forward to, nothing behind, just endless days of moving cargo from one pile to the other. The diversions that had captured his full attention as a newcomer to Earth's solar system were no longer fulfilling, yet the diversions that would logically be the next step were tainted in some way, abhorrent to the bits of his Capellan heritage that he had kept during his personal revamping of his moral code those first soul-searching years. The only interesting things left were people, but Callisto was a closed system, and the one person he would have been willing to open up to on a deeper level, had they shown any interest, was no longer a possibility, and the bright, bright singing vibrancy of their partnership drew him like a flame, and burned him just as badly.

Jealousy was a spurring emotion. It made you curl your hands with nervous, jealous energy, took you to the brink and back of saying something regrettable. It made you want to do something, anything. It whispered in your ear like a small green-eyed devil, talked about what if this, and what if that, and promised to shut itself up...if you did it a little favor "to ease the pain".

Such as considering that the Rowan would be outraged at him, _once again_, if Damia dared lean on _him_ in her time of need. Fine then. He'd had enough of catering to her every need, _enjoying_ catering to her every need, when his own needs went unanswered because she hadn't been willing to use her Prime-level Talent to pry behind his barriers just once, _just one time_, to see what was there, before it was too late.

_A slight change in tone of the emotions he projected, a sensitive three year old knowing that she mustn't do something because Afra projected __no__...and then trying to anyway, fear overriding her fledgling social response, but trying just a moment too late..._

The memory that Afra had buried as quickly as it happened swept over him brutally, sucking the air from his lungs and the strength from his legs, leaving a rabidly growing feeling of despair. The shields he rose this time were not so much a war fortress as a hiver sphere, round, impregnable, and shivering with the strong warning to keep out.

Afra unentangled himself from the precog visions arising in Harry's mind, unwilling to make any more muddled waters scathingly clear to a stranger, and struggled between outright denying this and accepting it in a manner that would get him off of his knees in the park and back to his quarters on earth so he could fall to pieces privately.

He managed to teleport himself back home, but only avoided manifesting himself inside his couch by pure, raw instinct. He wobbled, banging his shins on the couch and his calves on the coffee table, and fell to his knees, kneeling before the sofa as if it were the altar of some strange deity.

"I killed Damia," he whispered to himself, anguished. His jealousy had caused him to act in a way that cost Damia the split second she needed to live. His jealousy of two of his best friends' companionship with each other had murdered their bright, charming, mischievous, adorable daughter. His jealousy, his selfishness...so strong he couldn't put it aside during an emergency, so strong and vile and greedy that it chose to _act_ on it then, of all the times it could have manifested, wiping out one reminder of the union the Rowan and Jeff had together.

If that wasn't pure evil, he wasn't sure what was.

He wept, shame and embarrassment and sorrow making him blanch and flush by turns. Ringle, alarmed, scampered across the room and hid behind the faux logs in the cold fireplace. Afra didn't blame him. He wished to hide from himself as well.

It was only because the harsh, body-wracking emotions quickly drained him of all drive and motivation that he didn't find a way to commit suicide to atone for the shame and dishonor of his actions. He was too numb to think, or even move.

It took him seven hours with his shields up, his door locked, and his com turned off before he started to function again. He took a shower, prepared a very small and bland meal, and re-wrote his resignation letter again, a deep haunting sense of shame dogging every action no matter how small and innocuous.

He had no clue at all how he would even begin to explain things to the Rowan and Jeff, and felt worse when it seemed likely he would tell them nothing at all. _Coward!_ he spat at himself.

Yes he was, he was terrified that Harry had caught backfeed from when vision turned into memory the moment he thought the Rowan's name. He was terrified Harry had passed it on to Jeff, because Jeff was Earth Prime and those things would be passed on as a matter of course.

How could he be forgiven, whether they knew the truth or didn't? There was no forgiveness for this sort of thing, none at all. The explanation would gut his two friends, turn them away from him in horror and betrayal, and if they packed him immediately into a capsule--or perhaps without a capsule at all, what did it matter if he got accidentally exposed to hard vacuum?--and dropped him in the deepest, darkest uncolonized hinterlands of Iota Aurigae it wouldn't be nearly enough punishment for what he had done.

Jeff had once asked him, months back, if offenders on Capella wore sackcloth and ashes as their punishment. He'd been trying to lessen Afra's gravity about the situation, but if that sort of punishment had been true, Afra would have been willing to live a hundred years in sackcloth and ashes as penance.

Afra rubbed his eyes in exhaustion and ate his meal, Ringle sitting on the floor by his knee, looking expectant. He fed the coonie the scraps he didn't finish, and washed his plate and put it away.

Night had fallen, but there were things to do. He reviewed his resignation letter to make sure it was perfectly calm and rational, and then penned a fellow letter to the Rowan and Jeff, expressing his desire to step down as _loco parentis_ for their other two children. He also extracted the personal belongings from the apartment around him, and packed them into boxes.

_You're running away,_ a part of his mind told him. To which the other part replied, _Can you really go up to Jeff tomorrow and say, 'port me to Callisto so I can resume the job of being the Rowan's second in command? As if nothing had ever happened? So which one will you do away with next, Jeran or Cera? Because even if they hardly noticed Damia's death they will certainly notice it if one of __them__ dies. Something has to happen, to make amends, and you can't be sure that the Rowan and Jeff will take care of it._

With a careful reach, he sent his mind to Callisto, to his quarters there, sorting through, and packing up, those belongings as well. Then one by one he 'ported them here, and stacked them up against the wall. Another letter took care of the disposal of the large furniture items that remained in his Callisto quarters.

He had to get some rest then, he could feel his mind starting to complain around the edges, legacy of the mental searing he'd experienced on Deneb. So he slept for a few fitful hours, awaking multiple times to check the security of his mental shields, before drifting back to sleep again.

Dawn finally came, with birds chirping their heads off outside the window, and he threw off his fitful sleep to spring into action again. More food, this time to fuel his Talent, high in calories, and then he reached to the colony planet at the very fringes of his reach--Iota Aurigae--and arranged himself lodgings and storage via a public com terminal. It was a difficult reach unaided, and although he worked as quickly as possible, only expending telekinetic energy on the most necessary of things on that end, it left him exhausted again.

Knowing the longer it took for him to complete things the sooner someone would decide to just teleport willy nilly into his presence, he used a combination of naps, high-energy food, and efficient use of his Talent to move the boxes over.

Eventually he noticed that although nobody had popped into his presence in the flesh, there was a printout resting on his kitchen counter, one he had not placed there. He stared at it as if it were some alien creature, then picked it up and started to read.

_Liner 2834 just docked at Betelgeuse Tower. -GG_

Afra didn't have enough energy for much of a reaction to what would have been a joyous event, but he did wonder how David managed to miss a liner close enough to coast in under its own power. Then he did a backtrack--the liner had only had a few days of air and food. It had been more than seven months now. So how did it--?

Another shower, and Afra turned on his com and summoned a sled to take him to Earth Tower.

-------

**Author's Note:** Several things. 1) I'm going to attempt to update this on a weekly basis. I've never done anything like that before, so we'll see if that statement of intent is on crack or not. 2) I made a LJ community for Talent fanfiction. You can see it at community (dot) livejournal (dot) com/amctalentfic/ . If you know of any Talent fics not listed yet, let me know! Join the community and post them. :) 3) I have a thread going at _forums (dot) srellim (dot) org/showthread.php?t4377_ - I'd love to have some people to talk to about my fic if you have more comments than the review feature of allows.

Also...according to the wikipedia, which might be flat-out wrong, Deneb really _is_ in the boonies...3,000 light years away. Iota Aurigae is the next farthest, at 512 light years, which is 1/6th that distance, then Betelgeuse at 427. In comparison, Capella is 42 light years away, Altair is 16, Procyon is 11, and Vega is 24 (roughly). So there's a damn good reason Afra can't reach to Deneb, it's friggin' far. I'm guessing Iota Aurigae is his limit, 550-600 light years, which allows him to reach all the original planets mentioned in the series, except for Deneb. This new knowledge almost certainly marks Isthia as a T-1, as she can reach this distance unaided. It also shows AMC did her research!


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

There were delays being announced in voice and on com, as Afra strode through the passenger sections of Earth Tower, his resignation burning a hole in his pocket, and his conflicting, disarray of emotions burning a hole in his heart. Businessmen and women complained loudly through their earpieces to their spouses, or to their secretaries, annoyed that their interstellar travel plans were going to be off by a few hours. Word of the liner's return hadn't filtered out to the general populace yet.

Afra got a few hairy looks as he cut through a line of passengers and through a gate where the security Talents were checking identification and minds. He could have avoided it by just 'porting where he wanted to go, but he'd already felt removed, as if he no longer worked for the FT&T and no longer had access just to 'port around wherever he wished.

Which was strange, as he'd have to tap the generators and jump in a pod to get to Betelgeuse, either of which required proper clearance.

_What's the official word on the delays?_ Afra asked the security Talent.

_There hasn't been one yet, Mister Lyon,_ she said. _We just got word fifteen minutes ago._

_I see. Gren!_

_Afra!_ Gollee Gren said immediately. _I'm so glad you're here. They just appeared out of nowhere! Jeff's over there in person with David, they think the thrust went skipping through time, apparently the ship's clocks said it was still seven months ago until they automatically updated when reaching Betelgeuse's heliopause. Liner crew thought it was a bug at first until David brought 'em down. I'm up to my ass in paperwork giving these guys special credits to get home or whatever once Elizara and her crew health-checks all the passengers, and our Stationmaster is freaking out because we're going to have to delay some important shipments until tomorrow since all the Primes will be handling high-priority live 'ports to everywhere..._

_There's no official announcement yet?_

_We've got a script running to notify appropriate relatives and parties here on Earth via com that the liner has been found, before we break it to the media. Noooot mentioning the time thing, we're keeping mum on that. We "don't know" why it didn't appear for several months. They'll speculate, but without a Prime willing to help out nobody will know for sure. But the broadcast is finishing up now. Once it is done we'll announce things to the public. Figured the families should know first rather than having some muckracker break it to them. Then we'll put a page over the intercom to let the suits know why they're going to be late._

_Can I announce it?_ Afra asked. He wasn't sure why, but he wanted to be the one delivering the good news, as if that would wipe some of the tarnish off of him.

There was a pause. _Gosh, I'm sorry Afra, I forgot for a moment that...yeah, yeah you can get on the com. You're a twic, it'll put you through, normal code and all, just pick up any headset. I'll let the PR folks know._

_Thank you._

_No problem, old friend. Hey, we missed you yesterday, we were looking for a group to go dancing with. Managed to persuade Rowan to come, well, Jeff managed it, but we called it off because we couldn't find you, and Rowan took that as an excuse to back out. Good timing though, we have more to party about tonight. Gah, I'm needed. The script's done, feel free to announce at any time, sooner rather than later, though._

_Yes, businesspeople were getting antsy as I walked in._

_Why'd you come in through the front door? Heh, so __that's__ what the page about the major Talent was about, it's been blinking at me, security's set to let us know when--gah, I __really do__ have to go. Later._ And Gollee Gren's presence vanished from his mind.

When Afra focused back on the world around him, the security Talent was watching him, as were some of the passengers lounging around outside the gate, waiting for some morsel of information. "Can I borrow your headpiece?" Afra asked.

"Yeah, yeah sure. Gren just said you're going to announce?"

Which reminded Afra that he needed to announce to the Talents who weren't in the know as well. "Yes."

Afra spent a moment donning the headpiece and getting it to accept his credentials, moving out of auditory range of the passengers by the gate as he did so, then the background com chatter of Earth Tower crackled live in his ear. He selected the necessary crew bands to broadcast on, took a deep breath, and spoke.

"Earth Tower, this is T2 Afra Lyon, of Callisto," he said, echoing the words telepathically. "There's a terrifically good reason why everything's ground to a halt--Liner 2834 just docked at Betelgeuse Tower, and Earth Prime's speaking with Betelgeuse Prime and the passengers."

There were sudden cheers and hoots, telepathic and via the com link from people who had their lines open and were broadcasting by mistake.

"I'm going to make an official announcement over the com in a few moments to our guests. Work's going to be a bit crazy today; people from that liner have first priority getting home to their loved ones, so all Towers are going to be handling a lot of live cargo, which means everyone else is going to be bumped back a few hours or days as we reschedule. Hopefully our guests will understand and won't be too disgruntled by the delays."

A few telepathic _Yeah right!_ comments floated around, followed by a round of people telling them to shut up and keep their thoughts to themselves.

"The Stationmaster and his people will be updating the new schedules over the next few hours; keep an eye on your coms and handhelds; we don't need skiing equipment being 'ported to the Sahara, or snow cones to the polar caps."

_You can ski down a sand dune,_ Gollee Gren commented, popping in for a second.

_I thought you had work to do._

_By god I do. I'm just being the peanut gallery. Multitasking, for the win!_

"If anyone asks for details, at the moment the liner has set down at Betelgeuse Tower, and as a precaution we're doing health checks before we let anyone leave. Once that has been completed, all people from the liner are being fast-tracked to their choice of destinations so that they can reunite with their relatives and loved ones. Earth Tower will be handling those as they come through, so expect various delays as the live cargo coming in will take priority over everything else. If you have any questions, please direct them to the appropriate supervisor. Supervisors, if you have any questions, feel free to contact me--"

_Or me,_ Gollee Gren said on a wide band.

"Or Gollee Gren," Afra repeated over the com. "Stand by as I make the official announcement throughout the Tower." And he repeated what he had just told the crew, albeit wrapped up in slightly more PR wording with all the requisite "enjoy your ride and day" well-wishing.

_If you ever retire from the FT&T,_ Gollee said after Afra had finished up, _you could become one of those radio announcer people. Smooth, controlled, with the right amount of compassion in it. Did they teach you voice control on Capella too?_

No, he was just controlling himself rigidly again, and purposely inflecting his voice because he knew he would sound unnaturally robotic and blank if he didn't. But he didn't tell Gollee that, or mention the ironic post-FT&T career choice topic. _No, but I was taught to be diplomatic._

_Thanks for taking care of that, by the way. Hey, I have a down moment here; do you want to hop over to Betelgeuse yourself?_

Afra froze in indecision. He'd been relieved to hear that Jeff was not present at the moment in Earth Tower; if he wanted to, he could just leave his note and his IDs and never come back. But...he did want to see the people of the liner himself. He just wasn't sure that he could look the man in the eye just yet, knowing, fully and completely with no more denial, that he was the reason Damia was dead.

_They didn't find Damia,_ Gollee said solemnly, catching something of Afra's turmoil, and the thoughts of Damia. Afra shored up his shields again; a T-4 like Gren shouldn't be able to read him, not when he was shielding sternly enough that a Prime would have difficulty knowing if he was even alive without seeing him in the flesh.

_I know, you would have told me._

_I just pulled a capsule for you; get in it and go, put some sort of closure to this. I know it's been eating you up; I'd be kicking myself too if I were in your shoes._ Gollee hesitated. _I don't mean it that way, I mean if something like that happened on my watch, no matter whose fault I'd never let myself forget it._

Afra was silent for a long time.

_Afra?_

_Yes. A moment, let me find it..._and Afra took off and deactivated the security Talent's com, handing it back to her, before touching the gate's plate with his palm so that it slid open for him.

The tarmac outside was filled with kinetics of all ranges, and Afra ducked through them towards the capsule Gollee Gren had moved into place for him. A few moments later, he was inside, and shoving all his thoughts and emotions aside so that he could merge with Gollee enough to partake of his strength for the 'port.

Betelgeuse wasn't as far out as Deneb was--no other star in the Nine Star League was--but it was nearly as far as Iota Aurigae (only a hundred light years or so less), and Afra wouldn't ever have done it without a sturdy high-T and a set of good generators behind them. Together, they eased him out of Earth Tower, and set him down at Betelgeuse, in a cradle reserved for unexpected self-teleporting capsules like his own. Gollee pushed some warm fuzzy feelings at him in apology for his inadvertent and unintentional implication that it had been Afra's fault, along with a "grr, buddies!" telekinetic shake of the shoulders as Afra stepped out of the capsule. Feeling guilty at his apathetic response to Gollee's attempts at supporting him, Afra sent him a pulse of affectionate friendship, which rather shocked Gollee, unused as he was to any accidentally blatant displays of emotion from his friend, period, much less the focused purposeful emotion Afra had sent to him. Afra shrugged a shoulder in embarrassment, clammed up again, and made a beeline towards the crowd of people around the lost liner, now sitting peacefully in one of Betelgeuse's cradles.

Jeff Raven found Afra almost instantly, and immediately placed into his possession two of Damia's coonies that had survived the trip through space and time. Around Jeff's feet wound Rascal, the Rowan's Barquecat, keeping to the 'enemies he knew' in the face of the overwhelming mass of strangers inside and outside of the liner.

Afra almost broke down again right there, as the two coonies peered up at him from his arms with their curious pointed little noses and black-masked eyes, but the armful of critters gave him an excuse not to look Jeff in the face, or, indeed, to interact with him at all. Under the guise of caring for Damia's now "orphaned" animals, he vanished into David's tower in search of food and drink for the creatures, with Rascal trailing arrogantly behind, as if he just happened to be going in the same direction as Afra.

Afra considered going up to Jeff several times in that next hour or so, and giving him the resignation, but the timing, not surprisingly, kept feeling off, so he held back and assisted with processing the people so that they could finally go home. At one point he came face-to-face with the captain of the liner, and bowed so low in apology that the coonie still lingering in his arms abandoned ship, little black paws flailing, lest Afra topple over and crush him. The captain, however, was just glad to be alive after what he'd heard what had happened, and took no part in blaming anyone, although the man could have practically taken out a cat-o-nine tails and Afra would have hardly flinched.

Several hours later, and into the night time for Betelgeuse Tower, even though it was only early afternoon for Earth, things were finished up, and he ended up sharing his capsule back to Earth with Elizara, who looked tired but content. "I see you have some friends."

Afra swallowed. "They were Damia's. Didn't...make the jump with her, for obvious reasons."

"Ah." Elizara studied his face, and Afra could sense her trying to pick up on what he was feeling and thinking. "Harry ended the linkup you two had."

"Yes," Afra said. "It's served its purpose."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, thank you. Do you have any pets?" he asked, in an obvious attempt to turn the subject.

She gazed at him, and when he said nothing more, gave in. "No, I'm allergic. Not in small doses, just if I'm around them all the time. It's actually what got me interested in medicine. Well, I keep fish, but opinion varies on if they're real pets or not."

Afra blinked. "They've alive."

There was a faint throb of generators as Elizara did the honor of bringing them back home. "They also can't come greet you at the door."

"You've never met Cappellan octopi then."

Elizara laughed. "A what?"

"They're very smart, although a lot of people are allergic to them as well. Something about the slime. They can survive out of water for about five hours, and they like to curl up in your laundry or underwear drawer, or curl around the light source of lamps, particularly if the light source generates heat."

"I'm not so sure I'd want to find an octopus in my underwear drawer," Elizara said, as she opened the capsule's door to let them out.

Gollee Gren was standing there, and caught her last line. He blinked twice, then turned to Afra. "For Christ's sake, she's a married woman, Afra!"

Elizara started to laugh, while Afra shook his head at Gren. "Why does everything come back to sex with you?"

"Octopi are Japaneseish; you have your origami, your calligraphy, and now your tentacle--"

"Gollee, we'll be hearing enough of that tonight once everyone has gotten themselves drunk. We don't need to hear it now," Elizara said.

"I'm just saying. Besmirching Afra's spotless honor with outright lies extrapolated from conversations I didn't hear is fun."

_Not spotless. Jealous, envious murderer,_ Afra's mind supplied him, but he didn't tell Gollee that, and shielded tightly because Elizara would be on him like an army of valkyries if she caught so much as the slightest whiff of it, even if it was _true_.

Gren pretended he was hurt for a few moments, then perked up. "The party starts in three hours, I expect to see both of you there. We start at Luciano's to get fed and watered, and move out into town from there. Hey, there's a zoo in that capsule..."

Rascal emerged and darted off into the Tower, while the two coonies came out after that, one of them walking over to examine Gollee's shoelaces with extreme curiosity.

"They're with me," Afra said, scooping the pair up. "And I need to get them bedded down."

"You will be at the party, right, Afra? Nobody could get a peep out of you yesterday."

A party. He could do that, he supposed. It would be almost fitting, and he could leave his resignation on Jeff's desk afterwards, and be gone before first light tomorrow morning. One last night with his friends, before he started a new life elsewhere and wrestled with his own personal, and very ugly demons. "Sure, I'll be there," he said lightly.

"Great! I'll let everyone know. I'm going to run off now, just wanted to make sure you two got back okay. It's been a day, thank the stars tomorrow's a weekend."

And with that, the three of them said their goodbyes, and went home.


	12. Cut Scenes

**Cut scenes from Sackcloth and Ashes**

This scene was my first incarnation of the scene where the liner appears safely at Bet...Betal...Beetlejuice, dammit. I can never spell it right. Was David's wife ever named? If not, I'm calling her Lydia now.

Anyway, the original intent was to have Afra end up bopping from Tower to Tower, eventually ending up on Altair for whatever reason a few years later when the liner appeared out of nowhere. I wrote these scenes, and they ended up being sort of silly, and although I liked them (because who wouldn't like "Afra" and "striptease" in the same sentence?) they weren't taking the story where I wanted it to go. Because if Afra was all happy cheery and over his angst, there wouldn't be much of a story, now would there?

These are AU even to the AU, obviously. Never happened!

--------

Beep beep. Beep beep.

Afra cracked open one eye, and looked around for the source of the beeping noise. When it didn't immediately sound again, he rubbed the eye with his knuckle, and drifted back to sleep, sprawled over the couch on his stomach with his face buried in a throw pillow.

Beep beep. Beep beep.

A coonie cat came over to sniff his fingers on the carpet, its whiskers tickling over the back of his hand. Half-asleep still, he tried to pet it, poked it in the eye instead, and got bit for his trouble as the creature ran away, grumbling.

Beep beep. Beep beep.

One of the other coonies had jumped up by the com, made curious by the noise. "Ringle, get down," Afra ordered. Ringle knew better then to get up on the table. With a slightly guilty look on his black-masked face, Ringle leapt off the table and came over to him, unaware of the other coonie's finger-in-the-eye incident. This time Afra successfully petted the creature on the head, without petting its eyeball as well, and Ringle gurbled politely as Afra swept him up onto his shoulder and got to his feet.

He'd gotten a message, marked priority, which explained the unaccustomed beeping noise. Typically his priority messages came straight into his head via telepathy. He opened it up, leaning over the com ignoring the chair entirely, read it once, read it again, and collapsed to a kneeling position as his knees failed him.

Ringle chirped in surprise, and surveyed the room from this new height. Coonies couldn't read, but if they could, Ringle would have read, _"Liner 2834 just docked at Betelgeuse Tower. -Altair"_

--------_  
_

_When?_ Afra demanded of Bastian, one of the duet of T-2s that ran the main Altair Tower, seeing as he was was still awake.

Yellow/sage surprise faded into lemon/citrine as Bastian took a moment to process Afra's unusually aggressive question/demand. _When what?_

_Liner 2832!_

_...I don't recall that on our list today..._

_About two hours ago, _Maharanjani, the other T-2 said sleepily. _Bill Ackerman from Callisto asked that we give you the message._

_Was there any other message?_ Afra asked desperately, thinking of a certain little girl.

_No...are you alright, Afra?_

Afra felt it was obvious that he was a bit upset, even though he was shielding the worst of it away, so he didn't answer that question directly. _My deepest apologies...is there a way either one of you could give me a 'path boost to Callisto or Betelgeuse?_

Befuddled curiosity. _Ah, sure Afra, let me put some pants on and warm up a generator,_ Bastian said.

_Me too,_ Afra said, and vanished from their minds.

A second later his presence appeared again. _And thank you._

_No problem, _Bastian said, pulling on one leg, then the other.

--------

_Psst._

_Hey Afra, _Bill Ackerman said. _What took you so long?_

_...I was asleep,_ Afra said, wanting to explain nobody had bothered to wake him up, but feeling it would be rude to imply criticism of the man who was standing in his pajama bottoms near the Altair generator, giving him the power he needed to reach all the way to Callisto. _What happened?_

_It came out of __nowhere__, bleeping and blaring emergency sirens on all channels, gave David a bloody heart attack before he caught it, and snarled their schedule six ways to Sunday...er..._he seemed to suddenly remember that Afra had very much blamed himself for the liner in the first place, and trailed off, wondering how to portray the chaos that ensued without bothering Afra.

_...are they all unharmed?_

_Eh, the ride was a little bumpy, they got up to 2.5 gees which was uncomfortable particularly for the light-worlders, but other then that, and being astonished that five years have passed, they're okay. I mean, better late then dead, right?_ He gave a nervous chuckle.

Afra was speechless with emotion he was trying not to flood either Bastian or Ackerman in. For a moment he withdrew the contact entirely, so that he was staring at the generator only half-dressed, and Bastian was blinking at him, wondering why he'd withdrawn. Then he reached out with Bastian again. _They're generally unharmed, though?_

_Yeah Afra, they're okay._

_Afra!_ The Rowan suddenly said, her attention snapping to him like a floodlight as she caught the fact that Ackerman was speaking to him.

_Hold o..._

Too late, he was already in a pod in bare feet with his shirt dangling from his hands, and then a moment later he was in Callisto Tower, standing half-dressed in front of the crew. _Ah...thanks...Rowan..._like now was really a time he wanted an audience there while he digested this astonishing, magnificent news...in his underdrawers.

But the Rowan was oblivious to that, and threw herself at him in uncharacteristic exhilaration, a bright teal/lime/turquoise of happiness.

Afra felt like weeping for joy, himself.

"Are you sneering at me?" the Rowan suddenly asked, looking up at him.

Indeed, his face was frozen in an unusual expression of mingled surprise/lack of enthusiasm for being mostly unclothed/joy/relief/lingering guilt that they hadn't found Damia too. "No, not at all, I just don't usually find myself invited to parties so quickly that I can't even get dressed first."

The Rowan turned pink, and snatched his shirt out of his hands and put it on him with a quick telekinetic port. Socks appeared on his feet, but she seemed to have some difficulty procuring pants for his long legs and shoes for his long feet.

"Here I am, I have champaign, and a press conference in two hours, but you guys can enjoy the free booze while I mess around with that...why is Afra running around without his pants on?" Jeff suddenly asked, noticing the oddity.

"I'm doing a reverse striptease for Callisto Tower," Afra said sarcastically. "It's part of the entertainment."

Somebody whistled, and that broke the silence and half the crew started to laugh, particularly the ones that knew Afra personally.

_I'm so sorry,_ the Rowan apologized on a tight band.

_They're laughing with me, not at me, or at least that's what I like to tell myself._

_You're not laughing, though._

_I'm trying not to weep._

"Do we have to pay you extra for this?" Jeff asked, curious.

"A tip in the form of shorts, trousers, slacks, knickerbockers, or even pantaloons would be appreciated. Failing that, a boost to grab a pair from Altair would be nice." _Your wife forgot to pack mine._

The Rowan squeaked.


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

Ringle took the new change of residence with aplomb, as well as his two new roommates. The three coonies gurbled at one another for a while, then spent the rest of the morning scampering among the piled boxes like small children running around a playground.

They were the only ones who took his change of residence with aplomb, however. Despite the fact that it was a weekend at Earth Tower, and the strong likelihood of a hangover caused by the consumption of too much Altair Applejack, Jeff Raven, Earth Prime, bellowed at Afra in an excellent imitation of Peter Reidinger IV in one of his moods.

_By god, Afra, were you suddenly struck deaf, blind, and __dumb__ during our conversation two weeks ago? _A mental image of Jeff flailing his arms around in exasperation with every sentence. _Didn't you hear a single thing I said? And the liner effing __docked__ last night. The people were bruised here and there from the accelerated gees, but they were okay. Nobody died!_

_Damia did,_ Afra said barely in a whisper, not wishing to remind Jeff of it, but saying it anyway.

There was such a long silence after that that Afra picked at one of his boxes, assumedly to start opening it, then collapsed on his couch instead, in no mood for unpacking with a Prime without full possession of the facts in his head screaming at him full tilt that his decision was the wrong one. He was tired. And heart sore. And wanted to be left the fuck alone.

_What are the facts, then?_ Jeff asked in a more normal tone.

Afra shut his eyes. _I can't say._

_Won't say._

A muscle in Afra's jaw twitched. His mouth was clenched tightly closed, physically mirroring the way the reason, the facts, were pushed so far back in his mind, buried away. He _couldn't_ let it out short of a total mental breakdown...and he still was in enough possession of himself that he didn't want to do that. Not again. And he'd rather take Jeff and the Rowan's wrath at him for this than what would happen if he told them what exactly went on in his head in the moment Damia reached for his aid in 'porting. He'd rather lose their respect because they thought he was being stupid, than because of the revelation about how small a man he really was.

_Don't push me, Jeff. This is how it is._

_Then why are you leaking all sorts of muddled, unhappy feelings?_ Jeff snapped.

_BECAUSE YOU'RE PUSHING ME!_ Afra roared in a flash of molten hot anger. _Get your fingers out of the pie so that I can regain __control__ of myself! Go away._

A sudden array of startled, worried touches--the Rowan, strongly, Gollee Gren, Isthia and Elizara...he'd shouted too loud, or Jeff had backfired some sort of emotion at Afra's anger, and they came to see what was the matter.

_All of you! Out of my head! NOW!_

There was the sense of the Rowan about to speak, that she was distressed at his sudden rejection of them, and her. He cut her off. _Out. Out, every single one of you._ He projected an aura of his head being forbidden territory, as strongly as he could, and shielded again, so thoughts could neither come in nor go out.

Still, he felt the presence of several powerful minds about, like sharks in the water, for forty-five minutes or so, before they faded away.

Afra began popping the seals on the boxes of his possessions with unusual aggression.

Over the next few months, conversations of the same stripe were far from infrequent. But he didn't like bellowing at people he considered to be his friends, he hated the emotional turmoil and the loss of control it precipitated, so once they started to understand that a little jollying along or even a few screaming matches weren't going to pry his secrets from him, and started trying to mend bridges with him lest he abandon them completely, he felt relief. It was rare he put his foot down; he supposed they had to get used to the idea.

His relationship with the Rowan and Jeff was strained, however. Rowan picked up enough from him that she knew he felt she should loathe him, and Jeff, he discovered, had pumped Harry for information once he found out they had finally shared a clairvoyant episode the day before Afra resigned. Harry refused to divulge, stating ethics, which led Afra to believe he hadn't caught his sudden decompression of the memory, because he would have known the Rowan and Jeff would have been involved enough then to talk to them then without violating Talent ethics. Ethics or no ethics, however, Harry had balls of teflon to stand up to Earth Prime like that, and Afra felt grateful towards him.

Iota Aurigae was a raw world, settled less than a decade ago, with the pre-fab capitol Aurigae City and the newly sunk mines funded by two large interstellar mining corporations being the predominant landmarks in a morass of alien wilderness. Afra's FT&T salary had been calculated for the inflation rampant on the Eastern Seaboard of North America, and his savings stretched ridiculously far here on a world starving for the merest bit of credit sunk into the local economy. He could purchase acres of land, an architect and contractor to build a house, and furnishings for it, and still live comfortably off his savings for a good Aurigaen year.

As appealing as that might be, however, Afra found a flat in the city, knowing that removing himself from the hustle and bustle of humanity at this point in time would be a poor choice to make. Everyone he knew was on Callisto, or Earth, or Deneb, or Capella, and it would be far too easy, even for a telepath, to become alienated on his new world if he didn't make an effort to reach out to others. And it would also be rather melodramatic if he retreated to some fortress in the mountains, which was a trait he disliked in himself (although it could make for interesting times with the Rowan).

The Rowan! The envious creature within him wanted to blame her, for being small and attractive and so alive and vibrantly unlike anyone else of his acquaintance. As if she had control over how _he_ reacted to _her_. But she had never done anything wrong; he'd just been a hopeless romantic in those years before Jeff, when she was alienating herself out of loneliness (much like he refused to do to here), when he was the only one able to get a smile out of her or lighten her mood for a time. When he discovered Reidinger's matchmaking he told the man right out it wouldn't work, that she wasn't interested. Too bad he hadn't told himself that at the same time and stamped out such thoughts and feelings for good.

_So find someone else,_ common sense tried to tell him. He wasn't sure he wanted to listen. It seemed demeaning to go running around, trying to ease the ache with other people--both to them and himself. Still, Afra wondered about Naoki, what she was doing now. He'd enjoyed his time with her, but the age difference concerned him, and also that he wasn't quite as attached to her as she was to him.

Heh, perhaps he stood in the Rowan's shoes in relation to her, as the Rowan was to him? It was unlikely that the Rowan had never noticed his affection for her, his thoughts in the grips of powerful emotions aside. Noticing and not commenting was different from not noticing at all, and the Rowan was very sharp at spotting things. She had likely not wanted to ruin their friendship by making a comment. He may have well blurted out everything to her, a sudden pitiful boiling over of emotions at her feet, and he disliked the idea of being the supplicant in a relationship, bowing and scraping for favor. He rather suspected she preferred a reversal of roles in her private life as well; otherwise how would Jeff's powerful personality mesh so well with her?

So she'd taken Jeff when the man presented himself, and never brought up the subject whenever Afra had leaked (because he _had_ to have leaked his feelings at some point), in order to preserve their friendship.

So of course he'd ruined the relationship himself. Nothing destroyed relationships like a bit of murder. Like...haha...like some new lion taking over a pride and offing all the offspring of the former patriarch.

He'd refused Damia in her time of need to spite her mother for picking another man. _Despite_ the fact that some part of him wasn't entirely sure what he would have _done_ with her, had he gotten her in the first place.

Self-loathing curled through him once more, like some parasite stretching lazily in his innards, and left a sour taste. And he'd _liked _Damia. Afra realized his days felt empty beyond the fact that he was on a strange new planet, looking a new life in the eye. There was no little girl to provide auxiliary parenting for, no small mischievous fiend he could act avuncular towards and rescue from the more mundane dangers of life for a three year old. Coonie intelligence only went so far, they didn't have a spark of sudden understanding bloom in their minds when he explained something patiently to them and the notion finally clicked home.

It was bitter to know that Damia wouldn't grow up into some fine young woman some day, Prime of Deneb, or Altair, or perhaps Iota Aurigae itself. The knowledge that he had willfully caused her death was unbearable.

Yes, he'd been right in exiling himself here. Perhaps, eventually, he would find some way of atoning for his actions. He wasn't sure what, yet, would help bring him peace, but something would happen. It always did.

So Afra focused his energies on building a new life and home for himself, and fought with his untoward emotions, chaining them firmly to his will. It was his emotions, after all, that caused him such heartbreak in the first place.

--------

Afra didn't at all expect the rabid reaction putting his resume onto Aurigae's net provoked, particularly at this god-awful time of the morning. Electronic, voice, and vid messages piled up at his com so fast that he had to deactivate the sounds and alarms that began to grate on his nerves.

A check of a few job-related messaging boards informed him why. _Are we getting a Tower early?_ one topic asked, with someone indicating his resume in particular. _FT&T trained T-2s don't just fall off of trees into the public workforce. Is he a plant?_

_Stay away from him!_ one person warned. _I worked for a company that hired one of the FT&T's castoffs, high rating just like this guy, and let me tell ya, there's a _reason_ the FT&T didn't want her! Prima. Donna. Into all sorts of crazy narcotics too. Plus, he's from Capella and they're all nuts over there. If you need a Talent, hire one from the FT&T so you have someone to blame if they don't work out. This bitch tied us up in court for three years when my company terminated her._

_He'll just end up with one of the mining corps,_ someone else opined. _They'll bid and outbid each other so he'll be earning more than the CFO of both mines combined. I'd hire him, I need an empath, but he's overqualified with the telepathy and telekinesis. And, haha, I couldn't afford him._

_You know, he can see these boards just like us._

_What does it matter, he can also read our minds!_

_If he doesn't work for the FT&T who kicks his ass if he gets out of line?_

That stumped them for a short while, until someone said, _The FT&T? I think they handle rogue Talents even if they aren't working for them._

Afra briefly considered replying, he was discontented about how they immediately got on the subject of Talents abusing their powers, then decided not to. He'd likely have enough to handle as he went through the people who had responded and sorted them into categories, no need to go searching for trouble, or sticking his neck out in the open for someone to take a swing at.

Starting to sort through his messages, Afra discovered that the person looking for an empath on the board was correct in that both of the major mining corporations had contacted him. It wasn't all that surprising; after the FT&T mines were the next largest industry needing (as opposed to wanting) Talent. Even the best run mines had accidents, it couldn't be helped when frail human bodies were working miles under heavy, sometimes shifting rock, and having a strong telekinetic on hand prevented the accidents from becoming fatal.

The other potential employers were a diverse group. One was a scouting corporation that specialized in daring Aurigae's untamed wilds to do scouting and surveying of land. Again, a Talent such as himself would be useful for obvious reasons. Two more were law offices, looking for a telepath on retainer. Aurigae's fledgling entertainment industry wanted a crowd control empath, and they were also looking for a telekinetic juggler to float things around for effect. The local LEOs were looking for crowd control too. All of these, except perhaps the mining and scouting companies, and the LEOs, were likely to be far down the list of the FT&T's "need to fill" positions, which was why they were contacting him directly now that he had made himself available.

_I should freelance,_ Afra thought.

Afra's parents had always given him the perception that it was difficult to find a good job. They had guided his siblings into their lives from birth to adulthood, and while Afra had tried to buck the trend by applying directly to the Rowan herself, rather than meekly taking the stationmaster position that had been put before him like a plate of greens that were supposed to be good for his health, Gollee had taught him that that was how everyone else went through life--they took chances. _What, you think I got myself on Reidinger's staff because he liked my looks? Even if he swung that way, and he didn't, no. No, I said, "Dude, I want a job!" Well, more politely, of course, us Terrans aren't entirely deficient in manners._

Gollee had told him the whole story, once, which had made Afra look at the man in a new light--Gollee was ambitious. Very ambitious. It was a good thing him and Jeff clicked so well together, but if Gollee'd had to, he would have put up with any of Jeff's quirks. Of course, compared to the Rowan and Reidinger, Jeff wasn't particularly quirky, which was a nice perk for Earth Prime's second in command. _Him and David aren't bad at all, although since David's currently sleeping with his twic, I'd say I prefer Jeff. That's just not my cup of tea._

_She's his wife, Gollee, _Afra said, chuckling

_He's still sleeping with her._

It took a few days to sort through and digest information about starting up as a freelancer, and through the responses to his resume. In a few cases, the personality behind the words was strong enough--or they had a holo floating around the net that some amateur sleuthing found--that he could briefly touch a recruiter's mind, and those of their superiors, to get a rather more literal than usual "feel" for a company. Some contacts that he would have set aside got put into his "investigate" pile due to what he discovered, and others quite firmly into his "don't work with" pile despite the initial positive curiosity about them he had.

Afra met with each of the mining corporations first; most of the others were looking for a Talented retainer, and Afra didn't want to rule out companies looking for a full time employee just yet. He'd never done freelance work, after all...running errands as a boy hardly counted. He wouldn't mind not having to keep a business afloat if he could stand one of them.

"Did you know that miners, by law, are not allowed to wear skullcaps while on duty? As well as other related high-risk professions?" Cindy Affinger, vice president of the Aurigae branch of Elemental Metals, Inc, or EMI, told him when he came in to interview with her.

"Ah, no, I wasn't aware of that, although I could see how a restriction like that would come in useful during some sort of emergency. It would make locating a missing person easier, if their mind was unshielded."

"Exactly. I mention it because Aurigaen law is still evolving, and there was a sizable group that sprang out of nowhere when our corporation brought the idea to the government's attention."

"You're warning me?" Afra asked.

"Just letting you be aware of that element; Aurigae is a new planet, it's hard to tell what direction its culture will take. And, of course, it is to our benefit to be on good grounds with the FT&T."

"I'm no longer part of the FT&T, ma'am," Afra reminded her, uncomfortable.

"Your primary references are Angarhad Gwyn, Callisto Prime, Jeff Raven, Earth Prime, and Gollee Gren, Second in Command, Earth Tower." She looked him in the eye, and he caught a strong sense of amusement from her despite only the merest of smiles touching her lips. He had to admit she had a point. "They wouldn't be references if you were on bad terms with them. While I don't think you'd run off to tattle on me if I wear a pair of shoes you don't like, you _are_ the closest thing we have to a full fledged representative of the FT&T on this planet at the moment, even if you are technically ex-FT&T. It behooves us to treat you well; much of what we've been extracting from those muddy dirt pits is being stored in warehouses for shipping off-world once we get our Tower. So treating you well is a long term investment. Did Joey treat you to his favorite deli?" she asked, referring to Joey Sanchez, Executive Officer of Operations for Ironman Excavations, EMI's competitor.

"I'm being bribed by both sides," Afra said in amusement.

"Of course you are. But Joey's a good guy; I've been trying to steal him away from the dark side ever since Ironman sunk their first shaft on this planet."

And trying to steal a kiss or two, Afra inadvertently picked up. But she was comfortable with Talents; she had worked on Altair before, although not for the Rowan Mining Company. Her mind held little of the usual nervousness those who didn't work with Talents often felt; him possibly/probably reading her mind was a non-issue to her.

"Not that I think you should go working for _them_," she continued. "Other than Joey, they're all scum." And she winked. "Come work for us, we have cookies."

"White chocolate and macadamia nuts?" Afra asked, playing along.

Her eyebrows went up. "That's exotic. I think Capella's the only planet other than Earth that can grow those trees. But if you _insist_..."

Cindy later took him on a tour of the actual mine; they both donned hard hats and the appropriate gear, and curious miners manning the behemoth-like machines that slowly crawled forward underground, chewing up rock and spitting it out, watched them as they passed.

They went all the way up to where the head of the machine was scouring away, and Cindy had to shout to make herself heard. After a while of that, he suggested that she could just think loudly and save her voice.

Of course, she not being a telepath, his own replies still had to be shouted.

_You can't insert them into my mind?_ she thought at him. Her mental voice had a funny edge as she tried to "shout" in her head, but the natural "amperage" of her mind didn't amplify the signal the way it would for a true sending telepath. The effect was like listening to an electric guitar being played without an amp...audible, but only if you were listening for it.

"Massive migraine, if I tried that," Afra said in her ear. "Of the sort you need a medic's prescription for. I _could_ do it, though..."

_Yow, I have enough of those already. No thanks, then!_

If the position Afra was investigating had been one in which he worked directly with Cindy, he quite possibly would have taken it. As it was, he would be working underground, which was the best position to be in if he had to enact an evacuation plan on a moment's notice. The miners were a nice enough sort to chat with, it was all sort of, "Oh, is this what you do? That's interesting..." in both directions, but Afra sensed it would be unlikely of him to integrate well among the miners when work was over and playtime began. They would be the ones working with the machines in the dirt, extracting valuable ore, whereas he would sit in a clean room with a small generator purring at his heels, prodding ore around in a warehouse, except during an emergency where he would be porting personnel to pre-defined safety areas. It would just be another way of alienating himself in his misery, playing a scaled down version of Prime-In-His-Tower, which was extremely egotistic in someone not a Prime, and he'd already promised himself not to do any of that.

So Afra passed on the mines. He informed Cindy that he intended to freelance, but really, if there was an emergency, to just let him know--if he didn't know already--and he would help out. She asked him to forward the appropriate paperwork so they could hire him as a freelancer when needed.

Starting up a freelance business wasn't nearly as difficult as he feared; not when the planet-wide competition was limited (receiving telepath here, Finder who could only find lost pets there), weak (enough spoon-bending telekinetics to put someone's silverware tray in ruins), or untrained (Gestalt? I was coughing, not sneezing!). He had a large variety of potential clients contacting him from all quarters, and while nothing he was asked to do was very difficult, assuming it was within his Talent to do, he was kept very, very busy throughout the months.

And then the year.

And then a few years.

And a decade or so seemed to slip past, as he integrated into the culture of Aurigae and built up his business and client base and friendships.

Time moved so quickly, he reflected one day as he was lunching with Cindy _and_ Joey, playing excuse for their cross-corporation flirting (which he noticed with much amusement). _Is that Fatima?_ he wondered, noticing a vaguely familiar profile come in the door.

The woman looked startled. _Who--__Afra__? Afra Lyon?_

A smile tugged up a corner of his mouth._ How many Afra's do you know?_ he asked. _I wasn't aware the name was anything but obscure!_

Cindy and Joey looked surprised at Fatima's sudden exuberant squeal, as she darted over to their table. "Afra!" _Is this where you've been? I looked all over the records for your posting when I was done with training--_then suddenly the thought cut off, and Fatima blushed, a curiously young expression on a woman in her thirties.

Afra caught the sense that she had become well and truly infatuated with him somewhere along the line, and felt vaguely surprised, considering all that had happened, and the years that had passed.

_Sorry!_ she said, mortified that he had picked that up.

_No...ah...it's flattering. You didn't meet me at my best._

_Oh, I'm still so sor--_

_Not another word!_ Afra said. _To be honest...Deneb was sort of a working leave for me, and I wasn't referring to the accident we had. Which it was!_ "It's certainly good to see you, Fatima," he said out loud, not wishing to be rudely carrying on a telepathic conversation in front of Joey and Cindy. It was strange how something once commonplace--all of his closest friends had been strongly telepathic--was now half-taboo, if only for manners. "These are my friends Cindy and Joey. Cindy, Joey--this is Fatima, whom I met on Deneb some years back!"

"Are you a Talent?" Joey asked frankly. "And if you are, and you're a telekinetic, I know of a company that could use one..."

"I, ah..."

"Joey, you don't just go around asking people if they're Talents just because your crew is just so incompetent..." Cindy said, whapping him in the shoulder.

"I'm a microkinetic," Fatima said. "So unless you want your ore moved atom by atom...I'm probably not the best fit."

_Speaking of that, what are you doing now?_ Afra asked softly.

_I'm working with some scientists who needed a T-1..._

Afra blinked. _You're a T-1?_ He had known she was strong...but he certainly hadn't realized she was a T-1!

Fatima shot him a brief shy smile. _ Not, unfortunately, scalable enough to work Aurigae's future Tower...but I have the reach...I can turn lead to gold from light years away! We're doing some research on quantum physics...unfortunately I'm not at liberty to say much more._

_I understand,_ Afra said._ And congratulations!_

_Thank you. I'm surprised you didn't know...I mean...well I don't mean to say..._

One of the side effects of not working for the FT&T anymore; he didn't pick up the scuttlebutt about the newest, strongest Talents. Afra felt a brief wave of nostalgia. _I've been out of touch._

_Yeah, no Prime Tower here. So what do you do?_

_I'm freelancing._

_Free--you're no longer with the FT&T?_

_I left years ago._

Fatima gave him a searching look, then accepted Joey's offer of a drink. "Thank you."

Cindy looked amused. "He's bribing you."

"Of course I am; you bribe the gents, I bribe the ladies, and it works out well!"

The two non-Talents must have picked up, in the good old-fashioned mundane sense, that Afra and Fatima wanted to have a chat together, because the lunch wrapped up fairly quickly after that, and Afra found himself escorting Fatima to his place so they could catch up on things. To be in the presence of another Talent who wasn't a featherweight was surprisingly invigorating; while freelancing had certainly introduced him to ways of using his Talent that were more agile than the typical push-pull-catch of a Tower, he missed the daily contact with several strong minds of various flavors, and sometimes wondered if, should he test now, he'd still register as a T-2. He felt more like a T-4. He'd gone from the pro bodybuilding division of Talent to the gymnastics or swimming division, and his Talent had changed accordingly, losing some bulk but becoming more streamlined, flexible, and wiry.

_Why did you leave the FT&T?_ Fatima asked hesitantly, the old news fresh for her.

_It was a manner of personal honor,_ Afra said, simply.

_Hmm. Well, let me tell you what I've been doing..._

_-------- _

**Author's Notes:** Relatively mundane chapter - but our yellow-eyed friend is in transition, as is the story. Things should get more exciting with the next few updates!

Thanks everyone for reviewing so far, and more reviews are always welcome! They let me calibrate my story better if I know I'm being effective or not. :)

Here's a question I've been pondering...assuming many of you have read both _Sackcloth and Ashes_ and _Boxed: A Story of Talent_ - which do you prefer? I guess that's possibly an apples vs. oranges questions as the stories are quite different...young Afra vs. old Afra, AU vs. non-AU, one point of view character vs. many point of view characters. But I'm curious all the same.


	14. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

Fatima wasn't the only reminder of Afra's old life to reappear unexpectedly again. He woke up one morning a few weeks later and found a message on his com.

_"Altair" isn't spelled a-u-r-i-g-a-e! You never came to visit me! Oh, yeah, hi! Did you know that Aurigaen "lizards" have two penises? Penii? Whatever the proper term for multiple male members are? The men won't tell me what the right word is for some reason, and my Latin has always been weak. Contact me! I'm doing some wild and crazy xenobiology now! - Naoki_

Afra blinked in surprise at the message, then sank into a chair, laughing. Ringle came to investigate, and jumped into Afra's lap for a good scratch down his spine. "Do you know lizards here have two penises?" Afra asked Ringle in amusement, providing the requested scratching.

Ringle gave him a highly dubious look, swished his ringed tail, and leapt back to the floor to pursue one of the other coonies, whom Afra suspected was pregnant with a new litter. Ringle was pretty spry for an old guy.

"I agree," Afra told the creature's back. "I didn't expect to start my morning with that particular bit of knowledge. Naoki's like that." Funny how he still felt like he knew her, even though he had only "known" her for a single month, years ago.

_How long are you going to be here, and do you want a coonie kitten?_ Afra wrote back in reply._ They're cute. Let's meet for dinner._ And he provided his address, telling her to stop by "whenever".

A few hours later, as Afra was messing around with paperwork from last week's clients, the bell for his door chimed. Closing out the files on his com, Afra did a quick scan of the front door, felt what was still recognizably Naoki's mind, and clattered down the stairs say hello.

"Naoki," he greeted her.

"Afra!" she said, and bounced up in a funny little jump to plant a kiss on his cheek. Surprised, he laughed and caught her by the shoulders when it looked like she was about to loose her balance.

"So, where are the kittens?" Naoki said, bouncing in his doorway under his hands in impatience.

He unhanded her and crossed his arms. "In the oven."

Naoki stared at him.

"Gestating, that is," Afra clarified. "Should be born in a few weeks."

A look of relief crossed her face, and she laughed. "OOoooohh! Okay, you scared me there for a second. I was like, wait...I don't think coonies are edible! Because I don't want coonie cat pie for dinner!"

"I don't think Ringle wants you to have coonie cat pie for dinner either; these are his offspring we're talking about," and Afra waggled a finger at Ringle, who had come to sit next to his ankle so he could look up at the newcomer with curiosity.

There was a sudden scurrying, and suddenly one of the other coonies launched herself from a bookcase for Naoki.

"Incoming," Afra said, and intercepted the flying coonie with a telekinetic grab. "What do you think you're doing?" he asked the animal, who was startled to find herself hovering in midair instead of attached to Naoki's shoulder.

"Ooooh, they have little firefox faces!"

"Firefox, or raccoon," Afra agreed.

"Can I hold it? She's adorable! It _is_ a she? Is she the pregnant one?"

"No, that one is nesting under my bed," and Afra deposited the red-furred acrobat in Naoki's arms. Naoki was charmed, and submitted to a pointed wet nose being poked in her face. She gave it a kiss between the ears for its efforts, and Afra was struck by how absolutely adorable the scene was, with one of the coonie's ears flicking as her nose tickled it. If only he had cute, short, brown-eyed pixies snuggling his coonies in the doorway every day.

Afra paused then, reviewing that last thought and was rather grateful the woman _wasn't_ a telepath; snuggling his coonies indeed.

_Who's snuggling your coonies?_ Fatima asked in curiosity.

_Why are you in my head?_ Afra demanded with a touch of exasperation.

Fatmia laughed, and faded from his mind as quickly as she had appeared.

Afra stepped out of the doorway to let Naoki in. "Is cabrito guisado alright?"

"...is that goat meat?" Naoki asked, after thinking about it for a while.

"Yes, in tortillas. I've a soup and salad as well."

"Sounds delicious. You cook?"

"Only for others; it's too much effort to go to when it's only me."

"Don't you know it," Naoki agreed. "I live on frozen foods and take-out. Besides, I'd be afraid of accidentally cooking one of my specimens, I don't see food anymore, I see cut up plant and animal bits."

"Sounds delicious," Afra said with a grin. She punched him in the arm with her free hand, which surprised Afra. He wasn't used to the physical contact, but then she wasn't a Talent.

Naoki caught his surprise. "Get a deep reading from my knuckles?" she asked, reminding him that while she wasn't a Talent herself, she came from a family with Talents.

A deep reading? Not of her. Rather, of himself; he'd rather liked the contact. Although he'd prefer if the next contact didn't have to leave his bicep aching slightly. "Not this time; you just startled me," he admitted out loud.

"Haha. How many of these coonies do you have? And are they legal off of Aurigae?"

"They're legal everywhere except for parts of Procyon."

"Why not Procyon?"

"They ban imports of species that were not domesticated 'naturally'. Procyon also has a ban on Barquecats."

"But_no_ method of domestication is natural," Naoki protested. "Forcing tamer wild animals to breed with other tamer wild animals to produce tamer offspring is genetic manipulation just as much as taking a peek at their DNA and engineering it to be the way we want it. Only difference is that manipulating the DNA directly is quicker, and you can make sure you're not reinforcing negative mutations in the breed you're trying to produce so that a few generations of 'purebred' breeding isn't going to produce kits with arthritis or heart disease or what-have-you."

"I'm not from Procyon, so I don't know what they're thinking."

"I'm sure you _could_," Naoki said with a smile. "Well, I'm not settling on Procyon then. I like these coonies, and you've already offered me a kitten. I'm not settling on Earth either. Or Altair."

"What's wrong with Altair?" Afra asked, curious. The Rowan had grown up there, and he'd always felt she would have gone back permanently, if her duties had allowed her. Afra's sister Goswina had generally positive feelings about the planet as well. But Jeff had the longest daily working commute in the Nine Star League--from Callisto to Earth--and the Rowan didn't seem particularly interested in one-upping him in that, even if it had allowed her to live on Altair. "Callisto's my home now," she said, and left it at that.

Naoki had all sorts of things to tell him--she was obviously testing out the more extreme aspects of her profession on him, just to get his reaction. All the strange and gory bits, preferentially when he had just taken a bite of food. He obliged her by reacting, but in his own manner, which puzzled her at first, until she realized he was playing a game with her, which made her eager to win whatever winning would get her. She was a clever woman, and managed to blindside him once by putting together a mental image surprisingly strong and detailed for someone who wasn't a Talent, and he froze in momentary shock while she literally fell off of her chair, laughing her butt off. She laughed harder when the food he'd speared on his fork flopped off during the pause, as if it was fleeing for its life.

"You can see my thoughts!" she exclaimed, as if that obvious fact was new and highly amusing to her. She was the only woman so honest about herself that she'd just practically leap in his lap and say, "Here, I've already hacked the top of my skull off, take a look inside. Isn't the curly grey stuff cool?"

He banned discussion of bodily organs and functions at the table after that, Terran and alien alike.

"Ah, so does that mean I get to take _you_ to dinner?" she asked. "I mean, why have a rule if it's never going to be _enforced_..."

And he did have to enforce it, several times. It rather delighted him to do so, which also disturbed him on another level, until he caught a stray thought of Naoki's that noted the occasional and very much velvet-covered domineering grace note in his behavior, but brushed it off as everyone having their quirks and fantasies.

Wow.

Fatima was upset at his and Naoki's resumption of their long-ago fling into something possibly longer term, but she knew it was ill-mannered and was sheepish that he picked it up. He liked Fatima well enough, but there wasn't quite that zing he was, and always had been, looking for. He tried to be empathic in the original sense of the word, remembering with pangs of regret what his own unrequited love for someone had done to him, and, amusingly, found himself nearly match-making for her in an effort to pair her off before something bad happened between them. She caught that from him, which was surprising, but she said she thought it was a side effect of her telekinesis being micro; sometimes her telepathy picked up very subtle things, and totally ignored the larger picture. And why, exactly, did he think that that one guy she worked with might be a good match for her? Because she thought he was a total loser!

It was good to have another powerful telepath in his life. It kept him...honest. And between her and Fatima's nearly Talent-like tolerance of him swiffing up her subtle thoughts and commenting on them, he felt as at ease with himself and his life then he had in a very long time.

--------

A whisper awoke him from an exhaustion-deep sleep, something so soft and faint that he paused by the foot of the bed once he realized he was up, trying to remember the dream. He could have sworn that it was one of those intensely fascinating dreams that made you want to roll over and go back to sleep, just so you could continue the dream, but at the same time his gut knew it was real, because of the way it didn't quite mesh with the dream world of sleep.

Naoki stirred on the bed, turning from her side halfway onto her back as he watched, very much like one of his coonies when half-awoken from sleep. Like them too, she drew up the covers in her soft little hands. It was late fall here, and the chill seeped in at night.

A good reason to get dressed.

Afra padded across the thick bedroom carpet and ducked into the bathroom. He washed his face and splashed a bit of water around in lieu of a full shower, and pulled on a bathrobe and slippers. Once upon a time he'd used neither, but walking around naked in a climate-controlled environment like Callisto was a bit different than in even the best warmed home on a planet that had actual seasons. His toes got cold easily, being so far down. So he'd bought himself slippers his first year here, and never grew out of the habit.

The door onto the balcony slid back with the faint purr of motors as he walked towards it, and he slipped outside into the starlight. His breath puffed out in whirls of cold, and he used a subtle application of telekinesis to keep his body heat from drifting away. Something he'd learned from Fatima and her micro Talents.

It was the wee hours of the morning, and all was still, dusted with a faint white layer of snow that had drifted down sometime in the night. Only one of his neighbors stirred, a man who worked a late-night shift, and his mind was curled up on itself in quiet contentment.

Where has the whisper come from? Afra looked up into the stars, and some of the snowflakes that drifted down to catch in his eyelashes and kiss his nose and cheeks with moisture. They melted quickly upon contact with his telekinetic heating blanket.

Resting his fingertips on the iron railing of the balcony, he unfurled his mind, sending it up and up and up, into the atmosphere, and then beyond it, to roam between the planets of the Iota Aurigae solar system. Space, too, was chill, even to a mind, but he kept himself warm and spent a few foolish but fun moments sticking his "fingers" into one of the gassy outer planets, just to see what there was to be sensed.

Something hopped beyond a moon, then into the dark other side of the planet he was playfully exploring. Afra froze for a second, then slid around the curve of the planetary mass warily. _Hello?_ he asked.

A flicker of something that slid quickly away.

He slid around the planetary mass again, quickly, but far in front of him the other thing he sensed slid forward too, so he was circling the gas planet like a squirrel around a tree. If they hadn't been so close to the heavy planetary mass, perhaps he could have caught the other _thing_ he sensed, but the planet attracted his mind like a gigantic magnet, and Talent preferred straight lines to curves, so it was difficult to compensate and put his mental perspective in the right place at the right time.

The glimmer of _something_ darted away again, quick-as-thoughts, out, out, out and away, beyond the orbit of this gas planet, and beyond the orbits of the other four outer planets as well. Near the last one it lingered long enough for him to get a firmer sense of where it was, and, again, he chased the presence around planets and moons like little children on a playground, until suddenly he realized it was gone.

Hundreds of thousands klicks away, he felt a warm little hand curl around his bicep. He ignored it for a moment, to search again for the presence he had felt, before slowly drawing back towards his body.

It had been alien, he was sure of it.

Afra blinked his eyes, suddenly aware that, in the absence of a proper couch on which to lie down upon, he'd been standing out in the cold, his fingers glued to a freezing iron railing, while his mind has frolicked with some unknown presence in Iota Aurigae's solar system. His eyes were dry, a symptom of having forgotten to blink some point in time. And Naoki was there, much more sensibly dressed, with her hand around his arm.

He had to tell Jeff. If there was an alien presence here, particularly one with some type of Talent as he recognized it, Earth Prime must know. He wasn't entirely sure he could reach to Earth unaided, however.

"Fatima," he mused.

Through the hand on his bicep, he felt Naoki's wave of sudden anger, and realized that she had interpreted his actions entirely the wrong way. And it was both a curse and a blessing that Naoki couldn't pick up his aborted thought that she wasn't Talented, so she couldn't aid him in this like he almost wished she could.

"There's something out there," Afra told her.

"I'm not Fatima," Naoki pointed out, oblivious to his shifts of thought.

Afra reached up to squeeze her hand, before pulling it off of him. "I know that," he said gently, not unaware of her jealousy. "There's something out there...I don't believe it's human," and Afra caught and held Naoki's eyes significantly.

She frowned. "It's not Hiver?" she asked, referring to the only alien species humanity had ever encountered.

"No."

"You're sure?"

"I participated in both defenses of Deneb. Hivers reek of sting-pzzt to a Talented mind. It's a foul and unmistakable taste-touch."

She hadn't known about his involvement with the Hivers, and looked surprised at it.

"I need to tell Jeff."

"Jeff?"

"Jeff Raven. Earth Prime. I'm not certain I can reach to Callisto by myself, though. Earth's solar system is on the very edge of my range, and it really depends where in their orbits planets are. If I had a tower generator at my back--but I don't. I need someone to give me a boost, such as Fatima."

"Oh," she said, understanding.

_Fatima!_ Afra said softly, reaching out to the woman's quietly slumbering mind.

She was in deep sleep, and it took a few moments to rise out of the grasp of groggy dreams and respond to him. _Afra? This is a godawful hour!_

_I know, and I apologize, but I must speak to Earth Prime right away, and I can't do it unless I have a boost. Will you assist me?_

_Of course I will. Just...let me wake up and get dressed and get some coffee in me. I doubt I'll be able to sleep after I go gallivanting all the way to Earth with you._

_I'm sorry. If it wasn't crucial, I wouldn't have woken you._

_I understand...just hold on..._

Afra waited patiently, doing some minor bodily adjustments in his hands to warm them out after that long contact with the iron railing as he did so. Then, suddenly...

_I'm here_.

And she was; Fatima had teleported herself into his presence, a softly steaming cup of coffee in her hands. He was surprised. So was Naoki, who jumped about a foot.

"I don't care if I'm a microkinetic so long as I have enough oomph to 'port myself places!" Fatima declared with a cheeky grin. "You won't believe how much weight lifting I did to work my way up to this."

_It is customary to announce yourself before 'porting,_ Afra chided. _At least so I could have warned Naoki._

Fatima looked slightly abashed. _Sorry._ "Sorry," she echoed aloud to the other woman. "Afra tells me I should have warned you guys first."

"It's only polite," Afra said.

"Don't tell me you've never just 'ported around for the fun of it," Fatima said.

Afra thought about it for a moment. "No," he said. "I can't say I have." He shook his head. "And the Rowan was a stickler for protocol. You never teleported yourself around the Tower unless it was in private, or necessary."

_That's right, he worked somewhere in Callisto,_ Naoki's mind thought to itself.

Fatima caught the thought too, and raised a brief eyebrow in Afra's direction. _Doesn't she know what kind of Talent you are?_

It was true; Afra had never gone into detail about his exact T-rating and former rank in the FT&T to Naoki. He'd rather felt it unnecessary at first, and later that it might scare her away. But in retrospect, especially around Fatima, he realized that that was probably a mistake.

He wished Naoki was a telempath so she could sense his apology.

_I'll tell her later,_ Afra told Fatima for some reason. _Once this is over with. Shell we merge?_

And a moment later, they did, Fatima's strength once again solid and steady behind his own. He could sense the experience she had now--it was comforting to know that this time at least nothing would distract her at a crucial moment.

_Well, unless Naoki develops a sudden gift of precognance,_ Fatima joked.

_Ha,_ Afra said.

This time, Afra and Fatima sped out of Iota Aurigae's system quickly, the light years between here and Callisto melting away like nothing. And then Afra was zeroing in on the moon circling Jupiter, and touching Jeff's mind.

_Earth Prime?_ Afra asked.

_I'm here,_ Jeff responded quickly, knowing Afra wouldn't use his title if this was a social call. He also knew that it was the wee hours of the morning where Afra was; why he kept track, Afra wasn't sure.

_I like to keep track of what time zones my friends are in,_ Jeff said. _What's going on? And hello to you too, Fatima._

_Earth Prime,_ Fatima said with respect and a bit of awe.

_Prime, I've sensed a mind flitting around the solar system of Iota Aurigae. I don't have any details quite yet, it kept hiding around various planetary masses before it vanished completely, but I'm positive that it's not human._

There was faint shock from Fatima, but she hid it fairly well considering Afra hadn't forewarned her.

Jeff was surprised too, and made no attempt to hide it. _And it's not Hiver?_

_No. We played tag around the planets, with me as It. No sense of sting-pzzt at all._

_It doesn't sound like you feel its hostile._

_I don't know if it's hostile or not; other than knowing it was aware, I didn't pick up any emotions, positive or negative. It didn't take a potshot at me, but whether that means its friendly, or merely cautious, I don't have an inkling. There's just not enough data. But I thought you should know, regardless._

_Yes. Thank you for bringing this to my attention. Hold on..._and Jeff's presence vanished for a few moments, before appearing again._Can I impinge on your hospitality?_ he asked Afra.

_Always,_ Afra promised. _You and your family are always welcome here._

_Great, because I'm sending my son Larak along to you. He's a T-3, not Prime like Jeran and Cera, but between the two of you, I'm sure you can keep an eye on this new event. Forgive me, Fatima, but in my admittedly biased experience aliens aren't always friendly; you don't have the right sort of Talent if some quick, heavy-hitting telekinesis is needed._

_I more than understand, sir,_ Fatima said.

_Afra?_ an only vaguely familiar male mind said.

_Welcome, Larak,_ Afra said to Jeff Raven's second youngest son. Or second eldest son; Larak was square in the middle of the family so it could go either way.

_I'm packing up my things now; within the hour I should be ready to throw, if you're ready to catch._

_We'll be ready, Afra said, feeling an odd sense of deja vu. _How easily the Tower culture came back! _This planet doesn't have a Tower, but we'll find a corn field or something to set you down in._

Both Jeff and Larak laughed at that.

_So long as I don't end up landing in a mine shaft, Mister Lyon,_ Larak said.

Afra felt a brief pang of regret suddenly...that he had never known Larak, or Larak's younger brother Ezro the same way he had known the three elder Gwyn-Ravens. But he felt hopeful towards the future as he ushered himself and Naoki inside, and shook down the guestroom (that Naoki had used exactly once) for the young Raven that was coming to nest with him for a while.

--------

Author's Notes: Sorry for the long delay! I've started a new job, and I'm moving this week, so life is hectic. So, naturally, I've started on a third Talent fic. Yeah, I'm smart. ::sarcastic:: It's called "And Then There Was One". It's surprisingly Afra-less, but will have the lovely grumpy Peter Reidinger IV.

Anyway, as usual...please review! And many thanks to those of you who already have! I love reading comments. :)


	15. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

There was a cant to Larak Raven's features that reminded Afra of the Rowan, but the charisma was entirely Jeff's, and he had fallen so quickly into place in Afra's life upon arrival that it was like there had been an open spot in the puzzle just waiting for a Larak-shaped piece to fit in. Naoki, too, took to him quickly, as quickly as the Rowan had taken to Jeff. Charisma, indeed. They were ensconced in chairs on either side of a small table, snug as can be, and Naoki was enthusiastically playing guide to a planet she barely knew much about herself.

Afra found himself waiting for a response to that thought, half unconsciously, and frowned at himself when he realized what he was doing. And smoothed the frown away when the urge to frown harder hit, when his own mind supplied the quip he would have liked her to make--something about working in the hospitality industry never quite leaving your marrow. Although if Naoki had heard that thought, she might stomp her foot and demand why he thought she had liked working as a barmaid so much that she'd still carry traces of it with her, decades later? Which was a valid question.

And then Afra wondered why in the world he was carrying a conversation with an imaginary Naoki in his mind when the real one was sitting there across from Larak, oblivious to his thoughts.

It must be the stress, he decided, and turned to go back into the kitchen to make something to eat as the two continued discussing the merits of "going native" when visiting a new planet, verses hitting all of the tourist sites at least once, just to experience them.

The presence he had played tag with hadn't returned during the course of the last two weeks, but he had been wary, sleeping with one "ear" open. It was probable that the mind knew this; such a change of awareness in a mind would tip him off, and this mind was stronger than he was. Jeff demanded daily reports, the last thirteen of which had included exactly no new information, which made Jeff fretful, although he hid it well, and Afra only picked it up because the Rowan was unnaturally serene, occupied as she was with soothing her mate's worries. Jeff had no overt signs that he was more worried than he should be as Earth Prime, but Afra didn't doubt being the first and only line of defense when Deneb had been attacked by Hivers so long ago was coloring his thoughts about things, even if Jeff was mature enough to realize it, and work to make sure he wasn't becoming more paranoid than he was being paid to be.

There had been a deposit in Afra's credit account today; Jeff had been wise enough not to argue with him--Afra would hardly leave the protection of his adopted home planet high and dry even if he weren't paid anything at all--and had given him wages equal to a high-class contractor, and several generous danger bonuses as well. Afra had snorted to himself and let things be, for now. Things hadn't been dangerous, per se, as of yet, but he hoped a little Talented precognant bird hadn't chirped in the Prime's ear, because Afra would prefer it if things didn't end up being dangerous at all. Of course, he wasn't naive either, which is why he slept so lightly.

Larak had accompanied him on several excursions; first around the local solar system, and then farther out. The problem was that they didn't know which direction the presence originated from, and they had to scan around in ever widening spheres. And there was no reason the presence wouldn't be able to teleport its self past without them ever knowing, which is why they had to keep re-scanning areas they had already looked at. It was quite probable that if the presence was actively avoiding pursuit they would never find it. Afra himself, if he wanted to, could shield hard and fade into the background of any human-populated world. It would be difficult to keep the shields up constantly for long-term, particularly if Primes were looking for him, but he could do it, and he'd never be found through purely psychic means. If he had a well-stocked personal capsule, the sort that were designed for the Navy in event one of their ships necessitated abandonment when they were out of reach of any Prime's stomping grounds, he could literally go anywhere, limited only by his own Talent's reach, which wasn't Prime, but was considerably more than that of a T-12 spoon-bender. And he wasn't the only one who could do that. Gollee Gren, Larak Raven--either could vanish as convincingly as he could, given their Talents.

What it boiled down to was that the alien presence could be anywhere. It could even be walking among them.

Afra chuckled to himself at that potentially paranoid thought, and pulled together the ingredients for some tasty, robust sandwiches. The mustard was a local variety with a bite and tang, and he scooped it out of the glass jar with his bread knife, in preparation to slather it on the thick, crusty loaf he'd bought from the bakery this morning.

It startled him when the knife rubbing across the slice of bread was squeaky clean, and entirely inefficient at spreading anything at all on the bread. He stood before the counter, staring at his knife. Then he looked in his jar of mustard, but the yellow paste gave him no clues.

Afra put the knife down and padded back out into the living room, where Larak and Naoki were still chatting. "You're not some kind of mustard-fiend, are you?" he asked Larak when the young man looked up at him, blue eyes questioning.

The young man's eyebrows went up, and he gave a little, "What are you talking about?" shake of his head. "That's such a random question that I really don't know how to reply," Larak said, and Naoki burst into laughter.

"I was putting a sandwich together, and my mustard vanished right off of my knife."

"...are you sure the mustard was there to begin with?"

Afra raised an eyebrow. "If you really need proof, I'm sure Fatima will be able to discover traces of mustard on the blade. But for all intents and purposes, it's clean now."

Larak snorted. "No need, I was just being a smart-ass. But no, I didn't take your mustard." He paused, and thought about it. "That's really weird. Who would do that? Do you know any other telekinetics who could do that?"

"On this planet? Pretty much anyone with measurable telekinetic Talent, but the only one I know is Fatima. And you. In general? Hordes, but the question is, _why_?"

Naoki looked from one of them to the other. "Does this sort of thing happen often with you guys?" Talents, she meant.

Larak laughed. "Not past the age of, say, _twelve_. Mom and Dad had to ban the use of telekinetics at the table for a while, because we were 'porting our lima beans into deep space when we thought they weren't looking. Dad retrieved them once, and they were all puffed out and frozen. He didn't make us eat them, though mom put gigantic scoops of new ones on our plates." He shook his head at the memory while Naoki stared at him, then he turned to Afra. "Maybe you have a sprog somewhere around here, just learning how to use their Talent."

Afra had a pang of regret that he'd never witnessed lima beans in space, that would have been quite a laugh, and then nodded. "Probably. Well, if you find out..."

"We'll find a suitable punishment for our mustard-stealer."

"I really just want to ask them _why_," Afra said.

"Okay, you do that, and I'll point and laugh at them. Or maybe I'll just laugh in general."

Afra chuckled and strode back towards the kitchen. And the chuckle promptly faded as the knife was now speckled with bits of mustard, many of the specks missing the blade entirely and decorating the countertop as if a tube of pigment had just vomited everywhere.

"Whoa, they gave it _back_?" Larak said, his voice carrying, as he picked up Afra's surprise.

_Yes, but their aim is poor,_ Afra said, projecting an image at the other man. He heard Larak spring up out of his seat in the other room. But as he spoke, suddenly the small droplets of mustard vanished from the knife and countertop, and congealed on the knife again in a toothpaste-straight line. Behind him, Larak caught sight of what was happening, and broke into wild laughter, drawing Naoki in as well.

Afra thought he felt a wisp of the presence that was manipulating the mustard, but it was gone too quickly to grasp. He only knew it was an unknown. He lifted the knife off of the counter, and offered it to Larak. "Want some?" he offered.

Larak stuck a hand in front of him, as if to ward it off, and laughed. "No no no. You go on."

"Right." Afra ran the blade under the faucet of the sink, and let water carry away the well-traveled mustard. Then he washed the knife for good measure, and the countertop.

As he was doing so, he felt the mind of Earth Prime become known to him._Hello Afra. Any news about the new kids on the playground today?_

_No,_ Afra replied.

_They're mustard hounds!_ Larak said at the same time.

Afra cocked his head at the younger man. "Did you catch something I didn't?"

"Well, first they woke you up in the dead of night--and then you said you didn't know who stole your mustard. Either way, someone's messing with you."

Afra thought about this briefly. "I don't think the two are related. As you pointed out, 'porting food objects is something a twelve year old--or younger--does."

Larak shrugged. "Be that as it may. But if I do end up being correct, may I be the first one to say that I, for one, _welcome_ our new mustard-eating overlords?"

Afra rolled his eyes, and the young man cackled.

_The aliens stole your mustard?_ Jeff asked, curious, and they quickly filled him in on the recent foodstuffs escapade.

_Mmmm. I agree with Afra--it's probably some youngster from Aurigae who did it. Did whomever did it feel non-human?_

_Not particularly, _Afra said.

_Well then._ And Jeff turned his attention away from the mystery of the mustard. _We're pushing forward with plans to actually use that plot of land we've been sitting on since Aurigae was chartered, and my name is the new cussword among the bean-counters as all the budget plans are in disarray now, which means as far as you two are concerned, we're going to be sending you over some fancy schmancy new generators. They're rather nice; they're the same type that were installed here at Earth Tower a few years ago, except revised to have all the bugs fixed that drove my mechanics batty._

_Gee, thanks dad!_ Larak said.

_Thank you for the pushing that along,_ Afra said quickly. _We could use a couple of good generators if we keep these scans up._

_Exactly,_ Jeff said, giving his impertinent son a light telekinetic thwap that didn't make Larak falter for a second. _It'll still be a few weeks, though, as they're still being fabricated. Nonetheless, they're coming. Don't burn yourselves out in the meantime,_ he added sternly.

_No dad,_ Larak said with a grin at Naoki, who had come to sit in the kitchen and watch them curiously. He pointed upwards, to indicate he and Afra were talking to someone.

"Earth Prime," Afra elaborated.

Naoki nodded.

_On the subject of Naoki, how discreet is she?_ Jeff asked, knowing that Naoki was not unaware that they were making contact with a Talented alien species.

_Her family has Talents in it; she won't gossip about this. She hasn't for the past two weeks._

_May I talk with her?_ Jeff asked.

Afra blinked. "I think that's up to Naoki," he said out loud. _But you may use my mouth,_ he added, assuming Jeff didn't intend to come all the way here physically in the middle of the work-day.

"Earth Prime would like to speak to you," Larak told Naoki.

Naoki's eyes went wide, and they could feel her sudden apprehension, but before Afra could reassure her, he felt Jeff merge with him, and stepped back to give Jeff the reins for a moment.

Afra had only done this twice with the Rowan; the livable square footage of Callisto was small enough that there was no real need for her to not come in person if non-telepaths had to hear what she had to say. Both times he had been on Earth, standing in as her proxy, long before Jeff had helped her conquer her fear of moving between the stars. Gollee Gren, on the other hand, had done it much more frequently, first as Peter Reidinger IV's mouth, then later Jeff Raven's. But Gren, obviously, was not here today, so the task fell to Afra.

It was both similar to peering through Jeff's eyes, and wildly different. For one, the connection to his body remained strong, but it was eerie to "open" his eyes a second time, and to _feel_ Jeff's wide smile stretching his mouth. He felt like he was grinning like a maniac, although undoubtedly it was merely Jeff's usual wide and open grin.

He had a minute flashback to his youth when he had been nothing but lanky arms and legs--caused by Jeff adjusting to his body, no doubt--and then Jeff strode forward, and offered Naoki his hand. "I'm Jeff Raven, Earth Prime," Afra's mouth said, but in a voice that had dropped almost an octave down from Afra's light tenor. Gollee had confided that he had no clue how Jeff managed that, given the physical constraints of a voice box. Even Reidinger had had to speak in Gollee's voice--although his phrasing and force of presence made few realize it. "I'm very pleased to meet you, Naoki Yori."

Naoki stared at him for a long moment, turned the slightest shade of red, then seemed to shake herself before taking Afra's/Jeff's hand. "I'm pleased to meet you as well, Earth Prime," she said. Her handshake was firm in personality, but delicate in bone structure, likely another echo of Jeff's lack of familiarity with Afra's hands.

"Call me Jeff; Afra's practically family, and that makes you family-by-proxy as well."

"Thank you, Jeff," Naoki said.

"I hear you're a biologist with one of the groups documenting Aurigae's native wildlife," Jeff said.

Naoki nodded. "Not all creatures and critters come out to welcome the exploration and colonization parties. There's still a lot left to do," she said with an uncharacteristically humble shrug.

Afra's mind briefly thought of the dual-phallused lizards, which Jeff picked up instantly, to his vast amusement. Jeff didn't mention it to Naoki, however. "Given your background in xenobiology, how much have you studied non-human intelligence?"

Naoki wasn't slow, and quickly picked up where Jeff's questions were leading. Both Afra and Jeff felt her warring suspicion, hope, excitement, and self-caution. "I haven't done any specialization in Hivers; by the time I got into school the field was pretty much chewed over as we don't exactly have a lot of information on them." _A lot of Denebians in the field_, her mind leaked out. "I did study sapient xenobiology, however. I'd like to think that the universe isn't limited to just us and the Hivers, two wildly different intelligent species locked in a forever-war. There must be other players out there."

"Would you be interested in joining Afra and Larak as the Xenobiologist in this first-contact team?"

"I am currently in a contract," Naoki hedged, but although outwardly her excitement was well-contained, it was electric like fireworks coming off of her to anyone as empathic as Afra or Jeff.

"I'm sure things can be arranged," Jeff assured her. "But I needed to make sure you were interested, first."

_No, I'm not interested in a career-making first contact study of a new sapient alien species,_ Naoki's mind said sarcastically, although she kept the expression off of her face. Jeff chortled at that. "I would most definitely be interested, sir, if we're able to discharge my obligations to my current contract. Thank you." And she bowed politely towards Jeff, reminding Afra of her cultural heritage despite her normally irrelevant countenance to anything and everything. Except, obviously, Earth Prime.

"Well then. I'll send Gollee Gren--"

"--his second in command," Larak supplied helpfully.

"--over in the next day or so to assist with that."

"Thank you, sir."

Jeff let the "sir" slide, and walked Afra's body over to one of the other kitchen chairs and sat down. "In the meantime, let me get you up to speed," he said from across the table, as Larak sat next to him. Then Jeff, via Afra, explained what they were up to so far, as well as the part Naoki would now play in it.

When Jeff was finishing up, Afra's mind wandered back to their lunch, sitting abandoned on the counter. Naoki was getting hungry, he could sense, and he was sure Larak would be soon too, so he got up and--

--promptly got his legs tangled up with the chair and the table both--

"Ow," Jeff said.

--and would have fallen on his face if Larak, bursting into laughter, hadn't caught him and set him on his feet.

_What are you doing?_ Jeff asked, letting go of Afra's body before their conflicting use of his arms and legs got them into more trouble.

_Being a moron,_ Afra replied, feeling mortified in a way he hadn't felt for years. _My apologies, I forgot you were in control, and wasn't thinking..._

_Of food. Well, I was almost done--just tell her this..._

And Afra relayed Jeff's goodbyes in his own voice as he brushed at a cobweb that had transferred itself from the underside of the table to his slacks (he made a note to himself to spend a little more time cleaning and less time snuggling with Naoki and cavorting after aliens). _Thanks, Larak._

Larak was amused.

Afra shook his head at himself in exasperation.

Larak was still amused.

"Oh shut up," Afra said, not unkindly, and walked away to resume preparing their lunch. Naoki giggled at his back, but at least her amusement was just an after-effect of being in the presence of Earth Prime.

-----------------------

**Author's Notes:** Sorry for the long delay! As always, thanks for all the reviews, those given in the past, and those to come. :)

I don't have anything new to say, but I thought I'd reiterate about some fandom spots... community. livejournal. com/ amctalentfic (take out the spaces) is where I post links to any bit of Talent fandom I can get my hands on. So if you're a livejournal person who likes Talents, you might be interested.

In other news, I finally got my message board back up! It's at dmdomini. com / forum . I've some screenshots of my versions of the Talented characters from Anne McCaffrey's books, done Sims 2-style!

And yeah, if you are new and like this fanfic, look for _Boxed: A Story of Talent_ and _And Then There Was One_ on Those are my other two Talent fanfics. :)


	16. Cut Scenes II

**Cut Crack!fic scene too amusing to the author to cut entirely...**

Here's another scene that veered decidedly in a crackish direction. I think it's hilarious, but not very sane. I really like to make fun of Afra, don't I? I'm like one of those boys who tease you because they like you, except I'm not a boy, and Afra's a fictional character.

Anyway, I thought you might enjoy this, even though I cut it from the story proper. Again, it's AU to the AU. (Two more AUs and we'll be right back where we started...)

----------------

Predictably, the mind Afra had sensed had vanished into the nothingness of space like only a mind could. Larak came nonetheless, a bright young man with Jeff's charm, the standard white lock of hair nestled among black, and something subtly of the Rowan in the cant of his features.

"Where were you stationed last?" Afra asked aloud, for conversation. Naoki was quiet at the table as they ate, a bit overawed that the young man was the son of Earth Prime, even though Afra had hastily sketched out a more complete skeleton of his actual tower background after Jeff had tossed Afra one of his sons to assist in this investigation, and Larak had hastily corrected her when she mistakenly addressed him as Prime. _I'm not a Prime, just a T-3. Afra's stronger than me, he's a T-2, one of the strongest in the Nine Star League._ And he had suddenly blushed a few moments later when Naoki's unshielded thoughts made it clear that she had had no clue of Afra's actual Talented strength. Afra had rather hurriedly procured their meal then, pretty sure that he was going to catch hell once they were alone. Larak studiously and politely ignored the undercurrents Naoki was providing with her unshielded thoughts.

"I was on Procyon. Cera's stationed there, and I'm doing my training under her."

"Did you like it there?" Naoki asked dubiously. "They don't allow coonies."

"I know!" Larak said with a laugh. "It's horrible. I couldn't bring mine with me, nor could Cera when she became Prime there."

"Oh, you have some?" she brightened.

"I think each of us took one or two when we moved out, excepting Cera. I'm not sure why we had so many of them; none of the other families on station seem to have them."

Afra chuckled. "I'm afraid I'm the vector for their introduction."

"You make them sound like they're a STD," Larak said.

It took every iota of willpower not to spit out the asparagus and start laughing like a madman. For one, Kama would be highly unamused that her now respectable profession didn't quite have the same amount of respectability on the home planet that had shaped his suddenly wayward thoughts. He thought highly of her, and meant no disrespect. But the urge to make a joke about having caught coonies from her was a trial indeed. He managed to poke his cheek with his fork as he missed when trying to steadily take a bite, and struggled to keep his shields strong and calm.

It was a good thing Larak wasn't Gollee Gren, because the two of them would be rolling on the floor right about now if it had been. Afra dabbed his cheek with a napkin and managed to get the food in his mouth this time, and chewed, patiently trying to overcome his amusement.

He was immediately undermined.

_...coonies!_ Gollee whispered breathily into his mind, his mental voice somewhere between falsetto and feminine, somehow catching wind of this conversation from light-years away.

_I__think__ I'm missing something,_ Larak said. "Coonies?" he said out loud.

"What?" Naoki said.

_She had these __big__ round__furry__ coonies, and Afra said..._

"If you don't shut up I'm going to strangle you," Afra said conversationally to the flowered vase in the middle of the dinner table. "I'll reach out all those hundreds of light years, and tomorrow Jeff will need a new second in command."

"Well, geeze, if you want back in the FT&T you don't have to go murdering uncle Gollee for it," Larak said. "The way mom talks about you she'd kick flavor-of-the-month out as soon as you winked at her. It wouldn't even have to be a particularly come-hither wink either," Larak added, blissfully unaware of Afra's history with the Rowan.

_...and Afra said, I want me some of those..._Gollee continued.

_Wow,_ Jeff said. _This conversation has some interesting overtones. What are you two teaching my son?_

"We're having the conversation about the big furry coonies, dad," Larak said out loud for Naoki's dubious benefit. "Obviously. It's a very, very important subject. We've just found out that coonies are contagious, like a STD. I'm still working out how the transition was made from Afra to our family, though..."

_Alright, I admit it. Afra and I had a torrid affair, and the end result was coonies,_ Jeff said. _Don't tell my wife._

_...she'll have fantasies about it..._

_Gollee!_

"Gollee!"

"Gren!"

_How__ was that going too far? _Gollee protested among the protests._ It was a perfect setup! And, you know, furry...Jeff and Afra...coonies..._

"What?" Larak asked Afra.

"I have utterly no clue what he's talking about," Afra said. "I think Gollee's just being obscure."

..._thanks, Afra, for the non-support._

_Go...talk to your wife or something,_ Jeff commanded, projecting shooing images.

_As my master commands,_ Gollee said, and left, the image of him bowing deeply before Jeff lingering in their minds.

Everyone was quiet for a few moments, until Larak finally shook his head. "That's what I get for making a crack about STDs. Although I'm not entirely sure how Gren jumped to that breathy voice of his from that."

Afra took a few more bites of food and pretended his mere presence wasn't a catalyst for that entire conversation. Maybe Larak wouldn't catch on.

_I say this goes down as one of the best station mythos,_ Jeff told him privately, and Afra realized the man had sussed out exactly why Gollee was ripping on Afra. '_Coonies are like STDs, and it's all Afra's fault._' And the man laughed evilly.


	17. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

"So, when those bruises start to heal, will they even go through a green stage?" Fatima asked Afra as he pulled himself out of the gym's pool, water sheeting off of him to form puddles around his feet.

He looked down at his bare legs, and the medley of bruises decorating his shins. "They become stealth-bruises," he said, and took the large orange and purple towel she offered him and started to rub the water off of his face and out of his hair with it.

"So what happened?"

Afra lowered the towel from his face and started to towel off his arms. "Jeff was using my mouth to talk, and he has such a strong presence I forgot he wasn't actually in the room and got up to go make lunch. We had a little war for control over my legs and the table decided to weigh in on the matter. The table won." He grimaced. "I'm out of practice with that sort of thing."

"...is it _possible_ to be practiced in the art of being possessed?" Fatima asked.

"Yes. But it's not really taught to anyone unless it's necessary for someone to stand in for a Prime. Even then, it's a bit antiquated now that Primes can travel off-world. It's similar to a mind merge, except it takes it a bit further so that they can control your vocal cords, and your movement."

"Huh. Well. How do you keep them out of your mind?" _The contact must be deeper than even a physical touch..._

"Shields. Another reason it's typically not done except in emergencies with lower Talent ratings; they just can't shield well enough with a merge that close--it significantly different from a routine mind-merge of the sort I taught you. Higher Talents can shield well enough to keep their sense of self intact, though."

"I learn something new every day," Fatima said. _Although I'm surprised nobody told me before; this is a Tower-Talent thing, right?_

_Mostly,_ Afra agreed. And they both knew Fatima, although long-ranged, and a T-1 in her own right, was no Tower Talent.

_I see. Sometimes I wish I had the oomph to be a Tower Talent, and other times, I'm not so sure..._

Afra chuckled. "It's not for everyone. I'm doing free-lance, myself."

"Well, I didn't come here to talk about that," she said. _Or ogle you,_ her mind thought, not quite shielding it fast enough. Afra kept his face expressionless despite his surprise as he continued to towel himself off, and she met his eyes for a brief, embarrassed moment, before flicking them downwards, and quickly looking away. _Damn. I'm sorry, Afra._

He didn't reply, surprised by the flash of unexpected turmoil from her. He had a brief urge to pry to find the root of things, but swiftly suppressed it. He wasn't interested in her, although she was his friend and it was distressing to see she was more attached to him in certain ways than he was to her, despite that she knew he wasn't interested. A bit worrying, that she let it slip to him. He pondered how to reply to her, and finally settled on a neutral, "It's ok." He didn't want to encourage her--he had a love interest, after all--but he didn't want to cut her off at the knees either. _For want of a scalpel, he used an axe,_ Afra mused privately to himself, and in a brief flash of self-insight wondered how many times he'd used an axe on _himself_ in lieu of a good, clean, sterilized scalpel. In regards to his relations with...well. _Hm._

Afra had a few sudden regrets, and quickly subliminated them--let the past stay in the past. "What did you come here to talk to me about?" he asked Fatima instead, pushing his thoughts away and turning the subject--hopefully--onto something less personal.

"Well..." and she hesitated. _I think I'm being followed, or watched, or something, by an emergent._

Afra's eyebrows rose. _How long have you felt this?_

Fatima shrugged. _I just put a name to it today, but I've had a feeling between my shoulder blades for a while. Not quite as long as I've been on this planet, but long enough._

_Why didn't you tell me?_

_It's so _nebulous_, I thought it might just be me. And I've never tested as having the slightest hint of 'cog or clairvoyance. Unlike Harry. My hunches are un-Talented, so why raise a fuss unless I'm sure it's more than my mind playing tricks?_

Harry, the clairvoyant that had helped him unblock his own memories. _Has Harry said anything?_ Afra asked.

Fatima blinked. "Oh no, I was just using him as an example, since we both know him."

"I see." Afra frowned. "I had an unknown play a prank on me, right before I played host to Earth Prime. Perhaps they're the same one...do you know the gender of yours?"

"I didn't catch it," Fatima said apologetically. Then she sent him a _sense_, a flicker of something there that was indeed too nebulous to peg a gender to.

Afra tasted it, and put it aside in his memory. As nebulous as his own encounter. There wasn't really much they could do, unless she could manage to make a more solid identification, but he felt as if he should have some advise or wisdom to dispense, since that was obviously why she had tracked him down at the community poolhouse at this time of day. Unfortunately, nothing immediately came to mind, except for Larak's comparison to the alien mind. Afra hesitated, weighing if he should tell her Larak's off-handed suggestion or not. Then he decided to go forward. _Larak Gwyn-Raven, the Talent that is staying with me--_

_Earth Prime's son?_

_Yes, his younger son. Larak was wondering if mine was one and the same with the alien presence I encountered._

Fatima's eyes widened, and Afra felt a flicker of sudden lime-y fear from her. _You think the alien is stalking me?!_

Afra backpedaled and quickly put a calming hand on her shoulder, remembering, too late, that she was originally from Deneb. _No, but Larak's grandmother is a bit of a precog, so I just wanted to put the thought out there. Just in case he inherited a bit of it. I didn't get the same sense of alien from my prankster as I did when I went chasing that mind among the stars, but it seemed peculiar at the time that the association between the two just rolled off of Larak's mind like that. I'm uncertain at this time as to what it actually means. I only mention it as a precaution, Fatima._

_Oh. Well._ She shifted under his hand, and tried to put herself at ease, but he could still feel the undercurrent of fear that he had provoked. Self-consciously, Afra took his hand away to withdraw from that deeper, more personal sense of her, and started to walk away towards the pool's locker room, toweling away the last bits of moisture before doing a quick overall telekinetic _whoosh_ to make himself entirely dry. So much for his urge to dispense wisdom.

Fatima followed him a bit like a lost puppy, and stared unseeing at a warning on the wall about the dangers of slipping on the wet ground as he changed into clothing more suitable for the walk home.

"I didn't mean to alarm you," Afra said, as he tucked his towel into a bag and hoisted it over his shoulder.

"Oh no, no," her mouth said automatically, but her shields were still wobbly and belied the words she spoke. There was a deeply seated unease in her that hadn't been there before.

_Fatima?_ He asked, worried. She didn't respond, just kept staring at the warning sign on the wall, lost in her thoughts. Afra touched her shoulder again, briefly, to get her attention, and she blinked, then looked at him. "Why don't you come to my place and meet Larak, and have dinner with us?" He suspected that, with these fears in her mind now, she didn't want to go home to an empty apartment. "Larak is the son of Jeff Raven and the Rowan, but Isthia was the one that actually raised him on Deneb for several years when he was a boy."

"Oh really?" Fatima asked in interest. "Isthia's a good person."

Afra nodded in agreement, and let his query stand in his public mind.

Fatima accepted his offer. "You know, that sounds wonderful, Afra. I'd love to meet him, and have dinner with both of you. Can I bring a side, or something?"

"That's not--" Afra started, then caught the thought that she had learned a new recipe for an excellent salad dressing that she wanted to try out. Their eyes met, and Fatima shrugged. Afra smiled. "Salad would be fine. We'll be having dinner in three hours or so."

Fatima beamed at him. "Then let me run off and pick up the ingredients. I'll see you in three hours!" Sloughing off her unease, she waved at him brightly and trotted off to a grocery store, or home, so she could prepare her contribution for their meal.

Afra waved back, and watched her disappear out one of the side doors. It was a rather abrupt about-face, and he suspected she was being cheerful now to ease his own fears. Then he shrugged, and headed home himself. He wasn't the one who believed Larak's hypothesis of the prankster emergent and the alien being the same mind, after all. But he'd be a little more careful about mentioning it to anyone in the future, even if he didn't believe it himself.

* * *

"He is _adorable_," Fatima said.

"Mr. Sniffles?" Afra asked.

"...does Larak know you call him that behind his back?"

Afra's golden eyes widened, and he burst out laughing. _No, no, no,_ he said telepathically, his physical voice too occupied with a bout of spontaneous laughter. _I thought you meant the coonie kit. We call him Mr. Sniffles, because he curls up on your pillow and makes these little sounds in your ear._

_Well, I didn't know. Some men curl up on your pillow and make little sounds in your ear, too._

Afra shielded furiously, and managed to stop laughing. "Really?" he said mildly. Then he picked up the coonie kit in question, and rubbed it behind its ears. "Some women curl up on your pillow and make little sounds in your ear, too," he added, thinking of Kama and Amos, the great-great-grandsomething of Mr. Sniffles.

"Excuse me?" Naoki said, entering the room from the direction of the bathroom, her hair turbaned up in a large white towel. He voice was lightly curious, but both Talents could sense the sudden jealousy. Afra quickly replayed the conversation back, and realized Naoki, not being a telepath, wouldn't realize he was parroting Fatima's words back at her. And taken that way, his words were rather...well...suggestive.

Fatima, however, was quick on her feet. "Larak! He's adorable, but Afra thought I was speaking of Mr. Sniffles, who curls up on people's pillows and snorts in their ears."

"Sniffles," Afra corrected.

"I'm not sure why he thought I was speaking of the coonie--"

"Larak isn't exactly the first thing to spring to mind when I think of 'adorable'," Afra said drily. "And if it was, I think his father would have some words with me. His mother, too."

Fatima waved that opinion away. "He has these wee little dimples," Fatima said to Naoki, making little c's in the air with her fingertips.

Naoki's jealousy faded, and she started to laugh. "He does!"

"And he has that little white streak, like a skunk," Fatima said, gesturing at her hair with one hand.

"He does!"

Afra wondered privately if he should start to feel jealous. He was fairly sure nobody had ever described him with the same little excited squees of joy in their voice. It looked like Larak might remind one strongly of the Rowan in his face, but had a heaping dose of the same type of charm that'd gotten Jeff into the Rowan's bed. Indulgently, Afra set the young coonie back on the floor, and rose to his feet to start to clean away empty dishes while the two women--grown women, both decades older than the young man they were cooing over--laughed about Larak's quirks the same way two seven-year-olds might squeal about a large, stuffed, teddy bear.

_Whoops,_ Jeff said quietly in his mind. _Has he been stepping on your toes, Afra?_ There was a blend of apology and amusement in Earth Prime's mind.

_I've no quibble with Larak,_ Afra assured him. But he'd never been witness to...girlishness...like this except from a distance. Afra tried to squelch that thought, feeling briefly like the backwards Capellan Gollee Gren had introduced to the worldliness of Terra, years and years ago.

_When you have daughters, you'll get plenty of exposure,_ Jeff said.

_If._

_Oh, you'll find someone, someday, and then you'll be up to your little yellow eyeballs in spilt cereal and dirty diapers. You seemed to like it well enough,_ Jeff said, flashing Afra a memory of his own, where Afra was holding young Jeran, staring down at the tiny sleeping face with an expression that was as close to awe as Afra ever got. And Afra with Cera, patiently holding down a forefinger for the little girl to hold onto as she wobbled around on her first steps.

Mercifully, Jeff didn't share any memories of Afra with young Damia. It was strange enough to see himself from the outside with the two eldest children.

_Heh, the Rowan is wondering why I'm subjecting you to cruel and unusual torture. I don't think she understands how anyone can be charmed by a squalling infant unless it's their own flesh and blood. Anyhoo, I'm guessing you don't have anything new for me._

_An emergent that may be the same one that stole the mustard seems to be approaching her too, but I don't think it's related to the alien presence,_ Afra said.

_I'll let Gollee know,_ Jeff said. Then he gave the mental equivalent of a sigh. _I wish our alien would speak up again, if only so we know _something_ more._

_I wish so too,_ Afra said. _I'm keeping my mind open._

_Don't keep it _too_ open; I want you to stay in one piece._

_Somehow I feel the same way,_ Afra said.

_Good, good. Well, I'm going to call it a night; if Larak _is_ stepping on your toes, I give you my permission to give him a good smack. Or mind-burn._

_He's not stepping on my toes,_ Afra assured Jeff again, while wondering, behind shields, why Jeff thought that Larak might be. _You have a good night, Jeff._

_You too._ And then Earth Prime was gone.

Afra finished loading up the dishwashing machine, then wandered back into the living room, where the two woman had abandoned the topic of Larak's overwhelming adorableness in favor of the more immediate adorable cuteness of the coonie kits. This was a sentiment that Afra could agree with, and he lithely collapsed to sit cross-legged on the floor, so he could waggle a bit of string around for them to chase.

* * *

"Hello, Mr. Sniffles," Afra said with a straight face a few hours later, as a familiar form with a streak of white at his temple walked in the door.

"_What?_" Larak asked. His surprise was made more amusing given that the first thoughts that rolled across Larak's mind were wondering why the hell _Afra Lyon_ was addressing him with a ridiculous pet name, when he didn't know him _that_ well.

Fatima broke down in laughter so hard she slid bonelessly from her chair onto the floor. Naoki wisely chose to support herself on the wall, so she didn't embody the literal expression, "rolling on the floor, laughing". Afra just continued to stare at the other man serenely, yellow eyes to blue, until finally his own facade cracked and the corner of his mouth quirked up in the slightest smile.

Larak shook his head. "I can't decide if I _want_ to know, or not."

"It's a long story," Fatima said, her tone indicating he didn't want to hear it. And she didn't want to tell it either, Afra realized; she wasn't _about_ to admit the whole thing stemmed from her saying out loud that the young man was "adorable". She had her pride, after all.

Afra felt Larak brush lightly against his mind, searching for loose thoughts that might clue him in, but Afra was the stronger talent, and could produce shields that Earth Prime likened to a "war fortress", so the young man hadn't a chance. And Naoki didn't know the whole story.

Larak threw up his hands. "I'm not going to hear you call me that again, am I?" he asked Afra.

Afra's lips quirked. "Probably not."

"Because if my sister picks it up, that's the sort of thing she's never going to let go. Do you have a sister?"

"I have _brothers_," Afra said, lightening his shields enough to project a brief pulse of empathy.

"Well, I have brothers too, but it's my sister I have to watch out for."

Afra was about to reply to that, when suddenly, he sensed something, at the corner of his senses. Something familiarly alien, if that was possible. He immediately slammed shut his shields, and sent Larak and Fatima a warning. Larak, closest to Naoki, put a hand on her knee to alert her something was up.

_Hello?_ he asked.

The presence moved away.

_Dammit, we haven't gotten those generators Dad promised us yet,_ Larak swore on a tight band to Afra. Then he opened himself up to Afra so that they could merge.

Afra followed the presence quickly, while at the same time attempting to merge with Larak. But as they began to slide together, suddenly something interfered--and Afra was _pulled_ out of his body, and out of the merge, zooming up and up and up--

--_Fuck!­--_ Larak said, from far away, scrabbling to pull Afra back, but not strongly enough without generators.

--and Afra reached out, as quick as thought, to tap the city electrical grid to be able to break free, but the _other's_ thoughts were just as quick, and suddenly he felt something placed under his "hand", warm and purring. But the planet was out of reach, and its power grids with it.

He felt his mind form a query without words, and then realized that he had been taken out several light years past Iota Aurigae's heliopause, into the darkness between planets, stars, and suns. The buzzing under his "hand" continued, and he realized, after a few moments, that it was a little energy source--like a generator, but suitably different. It buzzed like a mechanical cat might purr. He had the acutely strange urge to pet it.

He put that urge aside for now, and scanned around himself, looking for the presence that had lifted him out of his body as easily as he might lift a pod out of its cradle. And he found it, several thousand meters away, on the lee side of a comet that was hurtling through this vast emptiness.

The comet wasn't anything more than a comet he discovered when he checked it out with a swift probe, but the mind was mostly shielded; there was just enough leaking out to realize that it was a mind. He approached it cautiously, and was about to say something, before it left, when it spoke to him instead.

_HELLO?_

Afra shuddered as the immense, strong, vibrant "voice" touched his mind, ran through him. A sweet, rich alto with overtones of sorpano and mezzo-soprano. The mental touch was exotically accented, and nothing quite like anything he'd sensed. Oh, he'd sensed a few of the underlying harmonics before, in Earth Prime at his most official, in the Rowan at her most riled, in David, and yes, even Capella--a strong, fierce, humming power--but not all at once, and not like this. Altos and sopranos and the slightly buzzing-weeping of a violin's lowest notes, or a cello's highest, with scents of vanilla and tangerine, and an electric orange fuzziness. Never before had a single mind exploded with such synesthesia in so many variations over his own.

He wondered what the mind felt when it touched _him_, wondered if he was as exotically different to it as it was to him.

Then he realized...no, not "it". She. This alien was female.

Afra realized two things then; one, that her touch had awoken certain spots in him, emotions that had been slumbering under hard-self control for years, decades, perhaps since his birth, and he was doing a poor job of containing it. He was vibrating on her level, regardless of if human minds were made to vibrate on that level or not. If he kept on like this, he might very well burn to a cinder. And two, he had not said hello back to her, which seemed insufferably rude.

If Afra had still been in his body, he would have closed his eyes, and taken a deep breath, all the while sternly shoring up his shields. As it were, he located the bits of himself that were humming like a tuning fork, and silenced them with firm self-control, piece by piece. The force of the alien's mind became muted then, like a planet's elemental fury during a thunderstorm, as seen behind a pane of glass. Then he reached out, calmly, coolly, and returned her mental touch. _Greetings,_ he said, hoping that she would understand. Desiring, despite all his self control, that she would _understand_.

She did, well enough, and exchanged a thought with him that he, after a moment, realized was very akin to the protocols that all high talents had hammered into them in their original training--just in case something like _this_ ever happened. Prime numbers, chemical equations, mathematics in binary, octal, and hexadecimal.

They exchanged dry, scientific concepts, and as far as Afra concerned, it was the only thing that kept him from trying to immolate himself like a moth upon a bonfire. If they had exchanged anything remotely more cultural or personal, there probably wouldn't be enough of him to return to his body.

Eventually, after some difficult-to-estimate time, they withdrew. They had a basis of understanding, a mode of mind they--or he, at least--could slip into in order to attempt a more precise form of communication. And, he realized, as fatigue started to cloud his thoughts, the little, buzzing, purring mechanical energy was still under his hand. He could draw upon it, if he wanted to, and it was clear now where his body was, and how he had to get home...he just needed a boost...

* * *

Afra opened his eyes. Or rather, he blinked dry, stinging eyes that had been staring open into space while his mind had been frolicking across hard, cold space, meeting with a...

He was _still_ vibrating from the experience. He closed his eyes, and calmed himself. He could feel the three other people in the room, alarmed, as if they'd only just realized something had happened. But surely he had been gone longer than that--? He put that thought aside too, and pushed out a calm, steady breath. Then breathed one in. And checked his shields, and forcibly adjusted his body--something he did not do often, due to the risks--to break down the pure adrenaline that was pouring through his veins so that once he sat up he wouldn't shake like a junkie coming down off of a high.

_Afra?_ Larak asked.

"Yeah," Afra said. It was hoarse, just this side of a rasp.

"Are you alright?" the young man asked.

Afra ignored that question, and opened his eyes. "How long was I out for?"

Larak shook his head. "Two minutes?" He looked at the two women for confirmation.

Afra stared at him. Two _minutes_? He felt as if he'd been through a particularly grueling six hour shift in a tower, something he hadn't felt for more than a decade. "Well," he said, at a loss.

"Can we get you something?" Naoki asked with concern.

"Whiskey sounds good," Afra said.

Naoki and Fatima looked at each other. "Where is it? I didn't know you had any," Naoki said in an odd tone. Afra rarely drank hard liquor, although he had wine fairly regularly.

"Treat from Betelgeuse Prime, some years back. It's back in the corner of the wine cabinet." And as Naoki ran off to get the bottle and a glass, Afra levered himself stiffly off of the couch. Thank god he'd been sitting on the couch in the first place, otherwise he may well have fallen flat on the floor like a puppet without its strings.

A few minutes later, he was nursing a little glass of amber liquid, feeling the prickles of anxiety that Larak was giving off from next to him. _I'm alright, Larak,_ he reassured the other man.

_It just grabbed you!_

_She was concerned for her own safety,_ Afra said. _She knew me, but not you. I expressed my displeasure at the way she separated us, to her._ And he had, a formal complaint, from one diplomat to another. And she had sent him something like an apology.

_Her? _Larak asked._  
_

Afra shrugged. _She feels female._ An understatement, but he wasn't ready to give anyone a look behind his shields. His own reaction had scared him, and he wanted time to analyze it, first, before showing anyone else.

He had finished a glass and a half of whiskey before his tongue felt like it was ready to work well enough to attempt verbal speech. "She met me at a comet. There was no spaceship there, so I assume it was some sort of halfway point."

"She?" asked Naoki.

Afra repeated to her what he had told Larak. And then he told them what they had gone over--numbers, chemicals, basic, abstract thoughts that would build a further base for communication. He continued to keep his own reactions to things out of his tone of voice, and out of his thoughts--the only thing he relayed that had any emotional charge was the little "mechanical cat", which had been provided to him as a generator to lean upon. "Rather kind of her," he said with small smile twisting his lips.

"Well, given she just up and snatched you out of our merge," Larak said. "It was the least she could do. But you said there was no spaceship there?"

"No."

"So where was the generator?"

Afra spread his hands. "It's possible they are technologically more advanced than us in this area," he offered. Which pretty much meant that their guess was as good as his own.

The four of them went over things a second time, Naoki taking careful notes in the portable com that Larak had 'ported in for her, and then Fatima, seeing how Afra was flagging, told him to go to bed.

"I need to tell Earth Prime," Afra said.

Larak and Fatima looked at each other, as Naoki tapped away, and Afra could sense a telepathic conversation that didn't include him, which possibly should have concerned him, but he was too tired to really care. "We'll relay the gist of things, once Naoki has written up her notes," Larak said. "You're bushed. You can relay things to Dad once you've gotten a good night's sleep." He paused. "If it..._she_...was going to kill us, I suspect she would have done it already." His tone was humorous.

Afra felt a twinge of duty rise up in him to try to get him to protest, but lethargy and sleep and the effects of the sharp and soothing whiskey sucked at every joint in his body. He wanted to sleep, desperately. So with only a minimal protest, he let Naoki and Fatima lead him to bed, and was out like a light even while he felt Naoki twitching his shoes off.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **We're getting into the meat of things, aren't we?

Anyway, you have to thank Doyoueverwonder for this update--I really wanted to pimp their Talent story, "The next, next generation of Talents", because it's good. But to do that, I needed to update something. So I just spent the past few hours writing this, so I could post it, and thereby pimp their fic in these authors notes.

So. Go read it, and review it because reviews are the life-blood of any fanfic writer; it's linked as one of my favorite stories on my profile. :)

Edit to the author's notes: I did some small tweaking to this page after I posted it...had some typos in there, and some lines that were unclear. I smoothed it out. I also corrected Amos' name (Kama's coonie). Amur ! Amos. Thanks once again, to the Towerdex!


	18. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

Afra and Larak sat alone in Afra's office, Afra behind his desk, and Larak in one of the chairs usually occupied by clients whenever they came to consult with him. Breakfast sat before Afra, cooling uneaten, as Earth Prime debriefed both Talents on what had happened the previous evening. Despite Jeff being a friend who was usually not a stickler for formality, and despite the fatigue that still remained even after eight hours of hard, deep sleep, Afra still felt it would be a breech in protocol to nibble on something while being debriefed by Earth Prime.

_I can't tell if we're getting mixed messages, or if it was a mistake, or some cultural thing, but the fact that it just _ripped_ you out of your merge with Larak concerns me,_ Earth Prime told Afra.

_I wouldn't call it "ripped",_ Afra said, nudging a piece of toast with a finger thoughtfully. _It wasn't painful...on my end,_ and his eyes slid over to the young man across from him.

_No pain,_ Larak confirmed.

_Nor had we actually completed the merge,_ Afra continued_._ Despite the fact that they had been merging to do scans for two weeks, they still merged slowly and carefully--a far cry from the instant snap-into-place merge Afra used to be able to do with, say, the Rowan.

_You said it did this for its own protection?_ Jeff asked.

_That's the feeling I got. Perhaps she considered a merge an act of hostility. Why merge unless you are going to tackle something your own strength can not handle?_

_Mmm,_ Jeff said, not quite agreeing_. But you didn't feel any outright hostility from this mind?_

Afra hesitated. It had been difficult to sense much intent beyond the careful concepts they had shared, and the widely synesthetic impressions he had gotten. _I felt no hostility, but what little I could sense beyond the part of her mind that she opened to me was overwhelmed by the "fingerprint" of her mind._

_You didn't mention that before,_ Larak said.

_Go on, Afra._

_Typically, when I touch someone's thoughts, a pair or triplet of sensation adjectives come to mind. Larak is blue and soapy._

_Huh,_ Larak said to himself, softly. Not at the fact that Afra had a synesthetic expression of how his mind felt--that was extremely common among telepaths and empaths--but at his choices.

_Rowan is pearl and steel_, Afra offered as another example, and felt a faint smile from Jeff that was gone as quickly as it came.

_You're citrus and wood smoke, Afra, _Larak shared with him.

_I would say orange and moss,_ Jeff countered. _Orange-scent, not orange-color._

_The alien presence is...alto with harmonics of soprano, weeping androgynous-throated cellos, electric orange soda...blankets, and vanilla incense._

The other two telepaths were silent for a moment. _Wow, _Larak said finally. _I'm not sure I would want to touch minds with that._

_Are you alright, Afra?_ Jeff asked, once again.

_I'm fine,_ Afra lied, as the mere memory of her presence stirred a ghost of the fascination he had felt upon contact with her, deep beneath his shields. He made sure those shields stayed in place. _My point was, she could have hidden the eighth wonder of the world, and I doubt I would have picked it up. _His mind conveyed his deepest apologies about that. It was a bit embarrassing to admit, even obliquely, that he had been overwhelmed with emotions at that first touch.

The three of them were quiet again, and Afra judged it would not offend to take a sip of juice. The sweet tartness soothed his throat, and hopefully would ease the precursor-to-a-headache he could feel start to throb at the base of his skull.

_How strong, in your estimation Afra, is this alien mind?_

_Prime,_ Afra said instantly. _And strong for a Prime even accounting for the fact that she was in gestalt. I think their technology to supplement their Talent may be more advanced than ours._ He paused, not wanting to admit it, but knowing it was important for Earth Prime to know. _Larak said I was out-of-body for about two minutes. It felt like two hours to me, and I ended up as drained as if I'd just finished a particularly brutal shift on Callisto_. Callisto handled re-routing of shipments that weren't absolutely required to touch down on Earth, and the Earth Stationmasters considered themselves doing a good job if they could coordinate it so only shipments destined to Earth actually touched down there. Unfortunately, the best written schedules for Earth's Tower crew usually resulted in the most grueling schedules for Callisto.

_Right,_ Jeff said, as he absorbed what Afra was saying_. Wait here._ And suddenly Earth Prime's presence vanished.

Afra took the opportunity to tuck into his breakfast, scooping up scrambled eggs and hash browns with a fork, before gently vibrating the pancakes in a very Fatima-like way to warm them up again. Larak watched this with interest; likely he'd been chided by his mother one too many times as a child about "playing with his food"; Afra didn't doubt that the Rowan would chide _him_ as well, and whisk it off to a microwave, if she were here to see him do it.

And then, as if she could hear through his shields--and Afra hoped that she could not--the Rowan's presence came into their midst, followed swiftly by Jeff. Afra swallowed his mouthful and put down his fork politely.

_Do you think you need a Prime, Afra?_ Jeff asked, while Afra and Larak subtly greeted Callisto's Prime, and she greeted them back.

Afra considered this. Given the Rowan's sudden inclusion, it was likely Jeff intended Cera or Jeran as that Prime, and Rowan wanted to be included in the decision. The alien presence had not overtly acted hostile--aside from breaking up his merge with Larak, which might have merely been misunderstood--but that wasn't to say she didn't have hostile intentions behind her shields. Afra hoped, devoutly, that that was not the case, but he was not one to act merely on nebulous hopes and wishes. If everything went sour, he didn't stand a chance against the mind, even if he had a proper merge with Larak that wasn't broken up almost before it began, and a rack of warmed-and-running dynamos to provide the push. A Prime in the merge with him would provide a more equal footing, should they find themselves in a bad position._ I think it would be wisest,_ Afra said,_ if we had a Prime like Jeran or Cera join us._

_I wasn't thinking of them,_ Jeff said.

_I would join you on Iota Aurigae,_ the Rowan confirmed.

Afra blinked in surprise, then felt a nudge from Jeff, asking for a private link. He reached out and connected to Earth Prime on a more private band.

_I don't like this. I don't like this at all, Afra. Nothing you say indicates for _sure_...but I've learned to trust my gut. And if I had a choice, I would join you myself. But I can't, not in person, not without alarming factions that I don't think should be alarmed just yet. Rowan is the strongest Prime in the Nine Star League, short of perhaps myself, and she assisted in both defenses of Deneb, and was the one to sense the female Hiver many-mind. And you two work _well_ together; I'd eat my office brick by brick if this new alien mind could prevent the two of you from completing a merge if that's what you two wanted to do._

_We've not merged in over a decade, Jeff,_ Afra warned.

_Do you really think that will be an issue?_ Jeff asked Afra seriously.

Afra hesitated, brushed against Rowan's mind. She was waiting for him and Jeff to finish their private conversation, but her mind was still familiar, like hand and glove. If she invited him in, yes, the merge would be seamless. _No, I suppose not._

_Good._ And Jeff released Afra from that intimate conversation.

_Officially, I'm taking a vacation,_ Rowan said, sensing Afra and Jeff had rejoined them.

_And Gollee and I will be running some T-2s, T-3s, and even a new T-1 through Callisto, where we can keep an eye on them,_ Jeff said._ "For training purposes"._

The Rowan made a mental noise remarkably like a snort.

_Where do I go?_ Larak asked.

_You stay on Iota Aurigae,_ Jeff said.

_Keeping it in the family?_ Larak said.

Jeff laughed, the amusement tickling around Afra's shoulders. _Only if you intend to marry Afra._

_Afra doesn't have to marry anyone to be family!_ The Rowan protested. _He's an honorary...son-in-law..._and a wicked, wicked grin was projected in Afra's direction.

_I think I've been demoted,_ Afra said.

_I think Afra's right; isn't he your little brother by another mother, or some such?_ Jeff teased his wife.

The jibe had the feeling of an old in-joke, although it was new to Afra; he'd never realized the Rowan had considered him to be like a brother. Of course, it explained why she had never...

_Damn__ it,_ he swore behind the privacy of his shields. Fifteen years later, and it still haunted him. Better to squash that thought, squash that...that vile well from which Damia's death had sprung from, for once and for all. Besides, he had Naoki. He should be ashamed of himself.

_I think Afra's cranky at his demotion,_ Jeff said, catching perhaps a whiff of Afra's sudden anger.

Afra quickly changed the subject, lest any one of them catch the real reason for his anger. _Rowan, you would be most welcome here. It's been a long time._

Rowan projected a sweet smile at him, and he felt a quick, chaste kiss on his cheek. _It has. I've been packing as we've been talking; will you and Larak be able to catch me? I'm told you don't have generators there yet._

_I'm rushing that job,_ Jeff assured them suddenly._ Two days. The mechanics are cursing me for it, but I'll have them to you in two days._

_Thank you Jeff,_ Afra said, feeling a bit of relief at that. Factoring in the time it would take to install them, they should have them running by the end of the week. He would endeavor to avoid any...critical...sort of confrontation with the alien presence before then. _And yes, Rowan, we will be able to catch you._ It's not like she was exactly a large woman, after all.

_But there's several hundred pounds of dense mass around me,_ she reminded them. _It's called a "capsule"._

Afra chuckled.

_Afra, given you have had the most contact with this alien mind, and the way it reacted to Larak trying to merge with you, you will remain "in charge"; Rowan will defer to you, except in matters where her brawn as a Prime is required._

_I'm on vacation, after all,_ Rowan said, haughtily.

_Ha,_ Larak laughed. _Mom's never on vacation,_ he told Afra privately.

_I worked with her for seven years; you don't think I know that?_ Afra shot back. To Jeff he said, _I understand._

_Please keep Naoki in the loop; when I break these developments to the powers-that-be, her reports and her own observations will be invaluable. I'm looking at the one you already sent right now, and I've added a few things that you've mentioned to me but which were not in the report._

Afra and Larak looked at each other. "I thought I'd told her everything, twice," Afra said, a slight frown making a line between his blond brows.

"You didn't mention the alien's 'taste'," Larak pointed out.

"Ah," Afra said. No, he hadn't. Naoki wasn't Talented, but he feared she would come to the wrong conclusion about his interactions with the mind if he spoke too much...

...and why did he feel that way, anyway? It was like the strange, melancholy note he had towards his relationship to the Rowan, except not in quite the same way. Afra made a grim note to himself that he was going to have to sort out his feelings for, and relationship with, Naoki...fast.

Unsettled, and disturbed at himself, Afra shifted in his chair and took another sip of juice. The proto-headache persisted, and he rubbed his temple with one hand. _My apologies for the omission,_ Afra told Jeff.

_You're tired Afra, and you just woke up. That, more than anything, is why I would like Rowan to join you. I can't help than think this...draining...may be another 'self defense' measure that ends up being dangerously detrimental to your safety._

Afra nodded reluctantly, but behind his shields privately speculated it had been the uncontrolled way he had vibrated in unison with the mind at first that had drained him. Without having a record of his brainwaves, he couldn't be completely certain, but it had certainly been a waste of energy. _Is it possible to send along monitors to watch and record our brainwaves when you send us the new dynamos? We might want to consider this to be like the very first days of the FT&T, when Talent wasn't trusted--in this case, I believe it would be prudent to monitor and record our interactions with this other Talented species._

_That's an excellent idea, Afra! _ Jeff said immediately, as Rowan and Larak echoed the sentiment. _I'll do that. We could send those along with Rowan, so you have them right away. I'll have Gollee take some out of storage._

Jeff pulled away again to arrange that with his second-in-command, but while he did that, Rowan asked them where she was going to be set down. _It's winter, correct?_ she asked.

_Yes, with real snow!_ Larak said with a grin.

Afra nodded to himself, and realized he wasn't sure where they were going to put her capsule. _Has the FT&T reserved land on this planet as well?_

_We could always put mom down in the front yard, under the balcony,_ Larak teased. _No one will notice the huge FT&T egg sitting in your yard!_

_Oh, you have to be kidding me!_ the Rowan said. _If you don't know where you're going to put me, where are you going to install the dynamos?_

_We're going to pack those onto the roof of Afra's condo,_ Larak said mischievously, while Afra turned to his com and quickly queried for the location of the land reserved for Iota Aurigae's eventual Tower. _The neighbors will be thrilled. Having a Tower nearby makes the property value go up, you know?_

_I'm sure Afra's neighbors will appreciate that...when the dynamos aren't screaming!_

_It does feel a little peculiar to be making first contact with a new alien species in the middle of a block of row-houses,_ Larak said pensively.

_Somehow, I didn't expect the FT&T to be coming to me when I met with the realtor,_ Afra said drily. _But I'll keep it in mind next time I move. As for where we'll set Rowan--and the generators when they come..._he projected a visual from the stored holo, and then, after a moment of reaching out to the actual site, sent them an updated mental image, appropriately dusted in snow, and surrounded by a barrier wall tipped with barbed wire.

_There's no doors in those walls,_ Larak commented. _That's not very useful._

_I doubt that will hinder Rowan,_ Afra said, amused.

_It probably hinders indents from marking up the place with graffiti and trash,_ Rowan suggested. _There's some factories in the area._

There was indeed some junk scattered around a few of the bare concrete slabs. Afra brushed it clean with a few sweeps of his mind, and 'ported odds and ends into the sun to be incinerated.

_Quicker than finding the right recycling and trash dumps?_ the Rowan said in amusement. _Get ready to catch me, Gollee's just tucked your monitors next to my knees, Afra._

And with that, Afra and Larak got down to business. They both sat back in their chairs and merged, with Afra as the focus. Larak sent him a pulse of sympathy when he felt Afra's threatening headache, and then they reached up and out and out, until they stood ready at the halfway point.

The Rowan took care of her side of the 'portation, which half-surprised Afra. She had certainly come a very long way in conquering her fear of small, enclosed places moving through inhospitable environments. Nonetheless, he received her into his "arms" with the utmost of care, and with Larak's help, set her down on the swept slab of concrete as softly as an angel's kiss. Then the Afra-Larak merge hovered, waiting as the Rowan powered down the capsule's small environmental system. They would keep the capsule locked, just in case vandals with ladders braved the barbed wire as they had obviously done in the past, given the amount of stray junk Afra had flung into the sun.

Once the capsule was still and lifeless--aside from Rowan waiting patiently inside it--they 'ported the woman, along with her luggage and the monitors Afra had requested, directly into Afra's office.

When Afra opened his eyes, he had a strong sense of deja vu. He had never expected to see the Rowan here, in front of him like this--it was just not something that was a part of his life these days, on this particular planet. The occasional mind-to-mind chat happened now and again, but this was different, and a little part of his mind did a strange little flip to see her here, in his home.

Larak bounded up from his chair, and gave his mother a kiss, before grabbing some of her luggage like a dutiful son and 'porting it to Afra's other guest room after Afra quickly sent him the visual. The Rowan embraced her son in return, as Afra rose from behind his desk, and after she had looked Larak over to make sure no harm had come to him in the last few weeks he'd been away from home, she turned to her former second-in-command.

"Afra! It's a pleasure to see you in the flesh, again!" and she smiled up at him, her brown eyes warm with genuine pleasure.

Afra felt an answering warm smile melt his face, and quickly strode over to her. He was then beset with an unusual urge to embrace her, but hesitated, unwilling to force such an intimate touch upon her.

He needn't have been afraid; Rowan completed the gesture by tugging him down to her height so she could give him a warm squeeze. He let her do it. "Welcome to my home," he said into her fine, silvery hair, feeling strangely as if a lot of his burdens had been lifted. More likely, she had just lifted his heart, making his problems seem comparatively less.

"Oh Afra," Rowan said. "I've missed you! Callisto hasn't quite been the same without your influence on it."

"Still bouncing twics?" Afra asked with a laugh.

"Jeff's made me promise not to go through more than two a year," Rowan said, with a wicked glint to her eye. "I even tried other Capellans, but..." she shot an apologetic thought at him that was entwined with her horror at their stodginess. "They're not you!"

Afra chuckled, and they spent the next few moments reminiscing, and exchanging old news that they'd already exchanged mind-to-mind, but not in person. In the background, Afra caught the thought from Larak that he could count the number of times he'd seen his mother be unadulteratedly sweet on the fingers of one hand.

Afra agreed, and wondered what sort of tricks he'd have to look forward too in the near future from this woman. The Rowan in this sort of mood was a Rowan who was plotting something.

She didn't make him wait very long. She spotted his barely-touched breakfast, and immediately laid into him for not eating. "Is that yours? It looks hardly touched!" In her defense, Afra also felt the immediate self-chiding for saying that to him, and he wondered who had, against her will, pressured her to eat in the past.

"My family told me never to speak to a Prime with my mouth full," Afra said with a half smile. "It's impolite."

"Liar," Rowan said. "Larak, can you--oh, Naoki and Fatima are here?" she cocked her head to the side, as she briefly "listened" to them.

"I'm sorry," Afra said. "I should have mentioned it. Naoki stayed the night, and Fatima came back first thing this morning. Let me introduce you."

And with that, the three of them exited the office, and went to explain things to the two women in the living room. But not without the Rowan discovering where his kitchen was, and 'porting his cold breakfast there so that it could be warmed up.

* * *

The subtle balance of things shifted with the addition of Rowan to the group; no longer was Afra the undisputed one in charge, regardless of Jeff's intentions. The Rowan led as easily as breathing, and Afra sat back and gulped down his re-heated breakfast as she showed the others how the monitors worked, and how to nestle the small electrodes in one's hair.

"Why is there one for me?" Naoki asked, the fine mesh of the net entwined around her fingertips like a cat's cradle as she looked at it.

"Because it can also pick up if your brainwaves are being interfered with," Rowan said.

Afra raised an eyebrow; he hadn't been aware that an EEG could do that. Then again, he hadn't worn one since that incident at Deneb, and before then, since he was a little boy in training on Capella.

"You think it may try to contact me?"

Afra swallowed his mouthful, and spoke. "I don't intend to broadcast your position, or anyone else's, in this matter to her, but sometimes the superior Talent can glean things from one's mind that you don't intend to broadcast, and unfortunately there is a possibility that you could be considered a target, if that is her intent. I don't believe it is, but it is wise to be prudent, which is undoubtedly why Gollee Gren sent five monitors rather than four."

"It's not necessarily always a case of superior Talent," the Rowan argued.

"A Talent with a higher T-rating has a better chance of reading me unwitting than a Talent with a lower T-rating," Afra pointed out. "And we've established that this alien is of Prime-level."

Rowan shot Naoki a humorous glance. "You can take the man off of the planet, but not the planet out of the man. He's modestly understating his abilities. Again."

Naoki eyed Afra for a moment, considering this, then grinned. "That's okay, I can do enough bragging for both of us."

The Rowan and Larak laughed. Afra just sighed.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** It feels good to be writing the Rowan into this, like a puzzle piece coming together. Which is good, because I'm furiously trying to pull my strings together because we're ramping up into some _awesome_ stuff, I promise!


	19. Intermission

**Intermission**

They broked this site :(

Since there's no status update on the front page of fanfiction dot net, and because I'm getting **intensely** frustrated, I figured I'd update my stories to let you guys know that this site has been broken since March 21st, 2011.

**Things that are broken with ff dot net:**

- Notification emails. It's definitely broken for gmail. It may be broken for other email providers. The notification emails take DAYS to arrive when A) a story is updated, B) a story is reviewed, C) a story is favorited/put on alert/etc, D) a PM is received. Literally. Days. Yet my gmail thinks the day it arrives is the day it was sent, which points to a severe email queue backup problem here. Their email servers are choking for some reason.

I'm tearing my hair out over this. Hatehatehate email notifications being down, as the only other way to notice is to memorize the numbers on the statistics page and notice when they change.

- Large fandoms are reporting the only way to update or post a new a fanfic is to do a hack-ish work around. This doesn't affect Dragonriders of Pern so far, but it affects larger fandoms as far as I've heard, so if you're wondering why certain categories haven't been updated, this is why.

I've sent an email to the site support, but they're a 1 or 2 man show, and given this site isn't exactly a money-maker they don't show much interest in righting things quickly or even giving an update on the front page. I don't doubt my email is one out of hundreds that was sent to them. I see no reason for them to answer mine soon or at all if they haven't responded to the others.

**Enter AO3**

So. I'm peddling a better universal fanfic site. I am in the process of getting my entire archive up on Archive of Our Own (also known as AO3). If you go to my profile on this site, you can click on the link to go directly there. (Chapters like this one strip out links and URLs else I'd put a link right here for you.)

**Why I prefer AO3: **

- _No ads_

- _Nicer layout_

- _Very robust tags._ Just finish a surprisingly good Jaxom/Lessa fic? (hehe) If the author used the Jaxom/Lessa tag, you can just click on it and find more.

- _The ratings/warnings system is more nuanced._ You have the normal G to Mature thing, but you can also give warnings for slash, kinks, and other things folks may want to be warned about. For example, my story Weyrbred Lads has a blue icon in the upper right, indicating a male/male relationship.

- _The crossover system just works better._ I can put The Day Benden Went to War in both Dragonriders of Pern and Talent categories without being afraid I'm missing all the Pern People that don't browse crossovers.

- _The co-author thing (although I don't use it as an author, only as a reader) works better._ You get direct links to each other's pages.

- If an author wrote a story as a part of a challenge, or for a specific recipient, you can go to that person's profile right from the story. (The one that received the fic.)

- _You can "like" a story without needing to comment._ If you want folks to know you liked a story, but you don't have a specific comment, you can leave kudos.

- _Comments are threaded._ You can respond to someone else's comment. As a reader OR as an author. I respond to comments on AO3!

AO3 is currently in Beta. Some of the functionality that THIS site already has is in the future roadmap to be implemented on AO3. To join you can sign up and wait for the queue to pop (it can take few weeks wait until you get your invite), or you can get an instant invite from someone you know. I don't currently have invites, but I'm trying to get my hands on some. **But you can read and review without having an account.**

**Twitter:**

I've joined Twitter as dmdomini . Link in my profile. I'll tweet fanfic updates as I make them.


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